Tight But Deaf: There's a 'Find The Ball' competition in our Daily Echo every Saturday. It hasn't been won for a while, and the jackpot is £32,000. Mrs. B has had a go in the past, with no luck, so she thought she'd give it another try.
Rather than posting it, as the deadline is on Tuesday, I walked it to a local shop where they have a collection box for entries.
While there, a female customer asked the shopkeeper for 'A pair of medium black tights, please.'
They are kept behind the counter, and after a minute of stupidity, he placed a pack of medium black pens on the counter.'
'No,' she wailed, 'tights...tights, not pens!'
He put the pens back, and gave her pair of large black tights in a box.
'No,' she moaned again, 'medium; they're large!'
She looked at me and smiled, raised her eyes to the sky in exasperation, huffed her breath, and mouthed 'sorry.' Then, 'Why doesn't he keep them out here in the shop, then I could choose my own?'
Meanwhile I had put my entry into the box, so I shrugged and said; 'Perhaps they get pinched?'
'He's got stuff out here worth a lot more than a pair of bloody tights!' she said, angrily.
But I suppose the point was tights are easy to slip into a handbag than a bottle of wine or whatever.
She had the right goods, and paid for them. We walked out of the shop together.
'Sorry,' she said, 'how about if we put a leg each over our heads and go back inside and rob him for his cheek?' she laughed, as she walked one way, and I walked the other.
I thought stockings were called "Hold Ups," not tights!