Gary Johnson, 48, husband and football fan has not been to the Horse and Whippet, Chutney on the Fritz’s 2nd oldest pub, since he used the word sleeps.
His excellent mate Snotty Dave (so-called because he once had a cold as a toddler) said ‘My heart goes out to Gary, it does. He said that it was only four sleeps until Christmas, and we haven’t seen him since. It was not as bad as that time when he said that Boris Johnson could be a safe pair of hands, but it was still mortifying for everyone. Even Johnny, who tells everyone, and I mean everyone about his bowel movements was quiet for a few minutes. Then, things went back to normal, well as normal as they get around these parts. I hope that Gary is ok. After all, there are only another two sleeps until Christmas. What? Did I say it? I did, didn’t I? I’ll get my coat.’
Gary Johnson was indeed alright, a bit embarrassed, and is now at home with wife Lorraine, son Tommy, Labrador Milly, a selection of Twiglets, mince pies and a single Pringle, who is not looking forward to going into anyone’s stomach.
Gary is also working his way through David ‘Call me Dave’ Cameron’s epic autobiography, so he has more than enough to do, after all, there are only 363 sleeps until next Christmas, aren’t there? Did I say it? I did, didn’t I? Did I? I’ll get my coat.