Frankie & Benny 13 – Jiggery Pokery

“So, what shall we do today then Benny?”
“Do?”
“Yes, ‘do’.  We can’t just sit here all day drinking tea can we.”
“Can’t we?”
“No we can’t.  The surgeon said that in order to justify the health service’s investment in the several hundreds of pounds worth of surgical jiggery pokery he inserted into your body, it was up to you to turn your life around.”
“Stents, Frankie, he fitted stents.  Like those little springs you get in cheap biros.  They keep the arteries open.”
“Well then, clearly I exaggerate with my ‘several hundreds of pounds’: sounds like he might have raided Poundland for his supplies.  Couldn’t he find something a little bit more hi-tech?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.  What about something they’d grown in a lab, what about Green Therapy?”
“Do you mean Gene Therapy?”
“I don’t think so.  Didn’t he sing Twenty Four Hours from Tulsa?”
“Oh very droll my comedian friend.  I think you will find that you are referring to Gene Pitney who, incidentally, died from a heart attack.”
“Well more fool him.  Look, the doctor said that you need to become a new you, so I am attempting to become a new me, so that together we can become a new we.”
“A new old we.  Seriously Frankie, what will we gain from all this newness?”
“I don’t know Benny, but I think that maybe we should give it a go.  I don’t think that I could face breaking in a new pal at my age if you die.”
“I am not going to die Frankie.  I am like The Bionic Man.”
“Thanks to half a dozen bits of old ballpoint?”
“They’re actually a bit more sophisticated than that, but basically yes.  I’m fitter now than I’ve been for years.”
“Well, it’s from a low starting point isn’t it, if we’re honest.”
“…How many press-ups can you do Frankie?”
“Press-ups?  I can’t remember when I was last close enough to the ground to press myself up from it if I’m honest.  The last time I was down anywhere below waist level I was searching under the butcher’s counter for dropped change when I found myself ten pence short for a steak bake.”
“…I can do ten.”
“Ten?”
“Yes, the doctor asked me how many press-ups I could do and I told him ten.”
“And you can actually do them?”
“Are you mad?  It would probably kill me.  It is what we call a theoretical exercise old chum.  I am particularly good at them it turns out.”
“I think the doctor probably wanted to know if you do any actual exercise Benny, you know, walk to the biscuit tin, open your own crisps, that kind of thing.”
“We used to walk to the pub every day didn’t we, I must have been really fit then.”
“You had a heart attack.”
“Other than that.”
“The doctor told you to stop going to the pub all the time didn’t he?  He told you to stop eating pies.”
“He also told me to put a tenner on Minor Surgery in the 3.10 at Kempton Park and it came bloody nowhere.  Look, I’m not a fool Frankie, I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live by boring myself to death.  I don’t want to regret not doing all of the things I really shouldn’t have been doing all along.  Most particularly Frankie, I do not want you fussing over me.”
“I wouldn’t call it fussing.”
“You took the batteries out of the TV remote yesterday so that I had to get out of my chair to change the channel, you hid my Yo-Yos.  I definitely preferred you when you were an arse.”
“I didn’t hide your Yo-Yos!”
“Really?”
“No, I ate them.  I didn’t want them going to waste if they were going to make you ill.”
“Well that’s a weight off my mind then Frankie: my foil-wrapped tea-time delights were not actually abducted by aliens, but scoffed by my eldest friend who is, by the way, clearly still an arse.”
“An arse who has only today purchased you a pack of Tunnock’s Caramel Wafers.”
“Caramel wafers? …Are they out of date?”
“Would it bother you if they were?”
“The Caramel Wafer, Frankie, is a chocolate covered allegory for true friendship: a brown, rectangular metaphor for brotherly love.  Of course it wouldn’t bother me.”
“Good.”
“So?”
“I found them in the Bargain Bin at the Spar.”
“But they’re still in date, look.”
“Really?”
“Yes, so why were they in the Bargain Bin?”
“I’m not sure.  Could it have been an administrative cock-up perhaps?”
“Possibly.  Or mayhap a stingy old bugger swapping the yellow labels again?”
“Shall I put the kettle on?”
“Well, you could Frankie, but I always believe that these red and gold foil-wrapped little sweetmeats are best suited to something a little more peaty.”
“Peaty?”
“Yes my friend, something nicely barrel-aged and peaty.”
“Well, I’m not sure what you are referring to, but if you mean that shite whisky you buy from the mini-mart, it’s more like nappy-strained and boggy.”
“You don’t want it then?”
“Don’t go jumping to conclusions here Benny.  There is much to be said for mud-flavoured alcohol as the natural choice to accompany Mr Tunnock’s very finest creation.  I’ll get the glasses.  Will you have some water in it?”
“It already has water in it my friend.  I believe that it is part of the way it is made.  It would be dismissive of the skills employed by the Master Distiller to impose amateur dilution to his product.”
“I’m not sure that this has been made by a Master Distiller, Benny.  It smells like it might have been produced by a camel if I’m honest.”
“Yes well, the time for words has passed now old chum, it is time for action: pour me the water of life.”
“Ah, an elixir.  Slainte.”
“Slainte…  Say ‘hello’ to my more than adequately rested liver, little whisky.”
“Are you ok to be coughing like that?  I don’t want you popping your stitches.”
“I think I might have the water in it after all.”
“Perhaps if we get something that has aged a little more than six weeks next time.”
“No, it will be fine, I just need to prepare myself.  Sneak up on it…”
“Well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t cough.  I don’t want to be around you if you tear one of your new seams.”
“I don’t have any seams.  I keep telling you, it’s been weeks now Frankie, I am completely healed and fully prepared for this little nightcap.”
“It’s midday Benny.”
“Yes, so what will you be doing after the second wafer and an accompanying supplementary nip, my friend?”
“Possibly a pre-lunch nap I admit.”
“To dream of pie.”
“I don’t think a pie is wise Benny.  I think you should probably ease yourself back into the game.  Perhaps a salad would be better.”
“Do we have any salad?”
“I very much doubt it.  I think I might have a jar of pickled beetroot and oily fish is good I think: I’ve got some tinned pilchards.”
“Will they make me live longer?”
“I think so.”
“Then I think I’d sooner die with a pie…”

N.B. Supermarkets here all put yellow reduced price labels on food here as it approaches its sell-by date.

My two favourite recurring characters, these two last appeared in episode 12 – Coronary (11.12.24)…

Should you be interested, you can also find epsiode 1
episode 2 – Goodbyes
episode 3 – The Night Before
episode 4 – The Birthday
episode 5 – Trick or Treat
episode 6 – Christmas
episode 7 – The Cold
episode 8 – Barry
episode 9 – Vaccinations
episode 10 – Anniversary
episode 11 – Dunking
I always re-read myself back into these two before I begin to write them. They are both me, but I have to recall which piece is which…