Say It With Forget-Me-Nots

January 25, 2017 9:39pm Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 26 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday

Four double vodkas and a funeral

Sadly, I attended a funeral last week and after the service a wake was held at the pub. This is where groups of people celebrate the life that has passed by eating triangular sandwiches, sausage rolls and downing as much ale as possible. Well, that’s what we do here anyway. You meet up with folk you haven’t seen for donkeys and reminisce about your debaucherous past and… sometimes present… by regaling stories that we all hoped had been forgotten. Amazing how alcohol can open the darkened and dusty corners of the mind, innit?

The man with the beef

I met “The Butcher” at the pub who I hadn’t seen for a while. He’s called that because he is one and is not quite as sinister as you might be led to believe. Ok, he is. I ordered lots of fine cuts of meat from him which after a few double shots I thought was an excellent idea. Turned out it was cos he got me some nice topside and homemade sausages. He also showed me his many rifles and side by side and promised to teach me clay pigeon shooting. Now “The Butcher” is a hardcore northerner who doesn’t take any crap. When you knock on his front door he shouts, “Fuck Off, we’re not in!” You don’t mess around with someone like that. Thankfully he’s known my family and me since I was a little girl. This kind of thing is helpful and I’ll shortly explain why.

Remember when

So this pub happened to be in an area where I once went to a notorious and hardcore comprehensive school back in the day. The school was famous for its sporting ability which is kind of funny since I skanked off PE (double lesson on a Wednesday morning) for three years. Instead I wisely spent this time at local shops with my mates where we pooled our dinner money together for contraband. This people, is what you call “Real Life Learning”. Besides, the PE teachers were very scary lesbians that used to watch you in the showers and beat you with hockey sticks. I learnt to protect myself early by being a manipulative, sneaky little sod. I believe it has served me well.

Talking of forgetting

The hours passed by and at some point, much later at the bar, I spotted a bloke with his pals who looked somewhat familiar to me. Hmmm. Every time I looked up across the bar as I waited for my ‘house doubles’ said chap caught my eye. I left with the drinks and met my best mate across the room who was chatting with two other girls. Not being the patient type I interrupted.

“Don’t look now but see that bloke over there with the white top on..”

They all turned to have a gander.


“Yeah, it’s him,” my best mate said.

“Him? Do I know him then?”

My friend gave me that ‘Are you serious’ look and folded her arms.

“NOOOOOO..Oh my giddy aunt are you kidding me?” I said in my best actress voice.

The other two women started to pry. “Why who is it? Something we should know? Spill the beans.”

“It’s her first ever school crush,” my mate kindly offered.

Now she wasn’t lying. Here, in the bar stood Peter H who I fell in love with at age 14. When I say “love”  it was more like an instant rush of pubescent teenage hormones but same thing. I once wrote about Peter H here under First Kiss  incase you missed it the first time round.

“I see him in here all the time,” said my mate. “Shall we go over and say hello to him?”

“Errrr.. NO and NO,” I replied with haste.

“What are you, 15?” she replied

“No. I’m actually about 14 right now and I’m not going. I don’t have my strawberry lipgloss.”

“C’mon,” she insisted, rudely and dragged me over to the bar.

What’s in a name?

She and Peter said hello like they were old mates and then my friend said, “Remember my partner in crime?”

He looked at me for many seconds as he tried to recall. I folded my arms as I waited.

“I definitely remember you but I can’t remember your name,” he said.

If I’d have had any vodka left I would have choked on it. Errr, really? I fell in love with this lad and He. Can’t. Remember.My. Name. Bellend. I felt the onset of utter atrociousness but remembered I was at a funeral party. Instead I reverted to teen queen, did a massive hair flick, delivered a killer dirty look and said, “Well, I’m not gonna help you out here, sweetheart.”

He still didn’t remember and had to be told. Talk about stamping on the rose tinted glasses. My friend disappeared and left me standing in front of Peter H like a muppet.

Pull yourself together, Jules. This is ridiculous. You’re a grown up now, I thought.

“So, what are you doing in here?” he asked.

“At a funeral.”

“Oh, sorry”

“Yeah. You should be.”


“Nothing. Anyway, so… it’s been a while. How long have you had amnesia?” I asked.

“Funny. You’ve not changed a bit.”

“Ha. You have. Barely recognised you. So what do you do these days?”

“I’m a carpenter.”

Oh, like Jesus.” What in the world possessed me to say such a stupid thing, I don’t know. But I did.

“Yeah.. if that’s your thing.”

We passed some small talk and I excused myself. I marched back to my mate and hissed in her ear. “Well THANKS for leaving me. Can you believe he didn’t remember my name. The audacity!”

A moment of flowered clarity

About 15 minutes later I felt an arm slink around my waist. Guess who?

“Can you remember when we were snogging outside the old science block after school?” he whispered in my ear. “I was just thinking about that.”

“Oh. All coming back to you now is it?”

He sidled off with a smile on his stupid face.

About a half an hour after that he came back again.

“I’ve just remembered something else,” he said.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Haha! “

“Oh yeah, Jesus.”

“Remember that night you came down to the youth club and we met up? I recall we tried to climb over that fence and we both fell over down that muddy bank. You had a skirt on with little blue flowers.”

I looked at him with utter disbelief. “Seriously? You couldn’t remember my name but you remember exactly what I was wearing to the detail of what colour flowers were on my skirt?! Unbelievable.”

I’ve since had a word with “The Butcher” Peter H’s card has been marked.


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You should have put your Emergency Clown Nose on immediately before walking over to see him. It would have broken the ice more smoothly. I swear, I get you fitted out with the latest kit and you decide not to use it.

I’m so stupid. Forgive me, LL. It was in my bag as always too. However, My bag was on a chair…somewhere in the pub and I never thought of it. Next time…. Forget THAT experience if you dare, sucker! 🙂

Best not have any more sausages from The Butcher then.
You don’t know who might be in them.

A very good point, Masher. I’ll stick to topside! 🙂

This is what happens when you stay in the same place you grew up as a child, Jules. Female gorillas wander off to the next forest to make new friends and avoid having sex with their brothers. You should have said ‘ You can call me ‘Flower Skirt’ if I can call you ‘Sanding Tool’.

Hahaha! I wish I could think of these sort of retorts on my feet, Mr. Gorilla Bananas, but alas. I revert to my default snark. Still, next time I bump into him I shall address him as such!

A name doesn’t make the same burning impression as a skirt with little blue flowers. Take it from me.

Tch! Well that’s just bad flippin’ manners that is! I remembered HIS name.

And there, in a nutshell, is the difference between yous and us.

Jules come find you a cowboy. They call everyone darling so they won’t forget your name‼?

Ha! Perfect, Janet. I figured also that this is why every bloke in America calls his woman Honey! 🙂

this is a very sweet and tender vignette. something out of a romantic comedy. i’d watch it and i never watch romantic comedies, i’m more into anime:


Peter H: Peter Hermann
Jules/Juli: Debbie Harry
Jesus: Jesus
The Butcher: The Rock
snoopy mate: Janeane Garofalo


Great cast, my sweet. Perfect! *)

He should have guessed “Bridget Jones,” or “Eliza Bennet,” I suppose. But one thing’s for sure. Any bloke who fails to remember the name of a girl who jumped fences with him in his youth while wearing flowered skirts does not deserve more than a scowl across the pub.

You, Grunt are a wise, smart and charming gent. This is why you landed a top sassy chick like Gruntessa! 😉

You’re so funny, Jules. Gruntessa is a top sassy catch and a beautiful lady, but I only landed her because she’s also not really that bright. And that’s something I’m happy to take advantage of, until she figures it out. 🙂

I don’t believe for 1 second he didn’t remember your name…. would you have seriously recognised him had I not pointed him out with his now bald head & beer gut?! Lucky escape springs to mind! One step ahead of the game mate ?? xx

Yeah… playa!

Ten steps ahead mate, ALWAYS ten! xxx

There’s a lot to like about this Whimsy. The Youth Club, skipping PE, strawberry lipgloss (well done, girls), side by side (SxS) and MAGA quantities of beef FROM A BUTCHER, and a pub. And neat infographics throughout. Nice.

But I’m sorry about your friend, RIP.

Much rather the youth club than PE, LSP! Whimsy always lies in the fun aspect 🙂

And thank you.

That’s what happens when you live where you grew up . . . what a treat.

Right, Goatman. Still, he won’t forget it next time… 🙂

Let me start out by saying you are too beautiful to be a Muppet. Now that I’ve got that out of my system…. Four double vodkas and a funeral….I bet that’s a great movie. I like that butcher. I always say, “I’m not in YET!” when I’m about to have so hanky panky time but the hanky has not quite found the panky yet. See? YET can be such a powerful word when a knock on the door equals hanky panky interruptus. That’s Latin and won’t do you any good.

Anyway… I don’t mind scary lesbians myself, but that’s only because my PE teacher way back then would always sit on a bench and spread her legs right in from of me. Did I mention she was old and scary-looking with a big wart on her cheek reminiscent of The Grand High Witch in that aptly named movie called, well, The Witches? I would mind the hockey sticks. I wonder why…

Your first ever school crush. You were 14. Well, I was 5, so if you should ever wonder why my nickname is in fact Randy, the fact that my hormones said hubba hubba when I was 5 should make for a great clue. She did not have her strawberry lip gloss either. WHAT!!!! He didn’t remember your name, Jules? How rude. “How long have you had amnesia?” Ha ha ha ha served him right.

How’s life, Jules? See, I DO know your name. What did I win? 😉

You are so charming and wonderful, Blue…..sigh…

I’ve never trusted Latin…or PE teachers. Yours sounds horrific! How did that not put you off sport for life?

You are a true gent, Grumpy.

You win my complete devotion and utter respect along with a Margarita and tickets to THAT island we all need to go to! 🙂

Your complete devotion… Screw Bora. I’ve got my prize.

You are the true Prince in every fairytale, Blue.

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