It were hard times in Yorkshire after coal strike, Hard but good. Blokes worked hard down Pit and at Mill, them as had jobs that is. Them as hadn’t didn’t and went on the rob and that. Round our way we was all one big family, no one had owt, no one locked their doors cause it saved people kicking them in when they come to see if you had owt worth nicking.
Everyone were Uncle this or Auntie that. Emily weren’t me niece but she called me Uncle Eric.
One day when I were in me shed repairing bicycles as I done for a living Emily come to see me, “Uncle Eric will you come to Manchester with me?”
“Ee lass that’s a bloody long way and I don’t have a pass port,” I replied, “I suppose you want to borrow a bike?”
“Nay, I got train fare,” she say’s, “Dad says I should go on’t game now I’m Eighteen and pay me way.”
“Well the can’t sponge off thee mam for ever,” I says, “And thee failed school certificate, on account of being as thick as two short planks so I don’t suppose thee has much choice.”
“No,” she agreed, “So Mam says have a word wi Uncle Eric on account of him being queer and get him to help thee choose some costumes to turn on t’punters.”
“I’m not bloody queer,” I says, “I just get claustra fobia down pit on account of not being in any particular hurry to die.”
“That makes thee queer in most folks eyes.” she explained. Like I said she wasn’t that bright.
“Look Emily,” I says kindly, “I think we needs a little chat, you come round for tea and we’ll have fish and chips to save cooking.”
So come six o’clock we was queueing for chip shop and by quarter past we was sat down eating. “You ought to get a wireless,” Emily suggested.
“Nay lass, can’t beat a good book,” I explained.
“They reads from the “Good Book” of a Sunday” she says. “And it’s boring all about Zeekiel and Adam and Eveyn and snakes and apples and the Baby Jesus and all that.”
“There’s lots of other books,” I says.
We finished eating and chucked the newspaper wrapping into the fire.
“Look our Emily,” I says, “I know you think I’m ancient but I ent and we has to be careful lest folk think there’s funny business going on.”
“Dad says your Twenty Five,” she said, “Same as him,”
“I am but he ent!” I says, “Look our Emily, it’ll ruin your reputation if folk think me and you been having relations, hows yer father, nameless depravities and that.”
“Don’t be daft Uncle Eric,” she says, “I’m going on’t game, what’s nameless depravities?”
“Depravities they haven’t made up a name for yet,” I surmised, “Anyroad, thing is I ent queer.”
“But you are, you don’t work for anyone Uncle Eric,” she explained, “You don’t have no boss or nothing.”
“He means Homer Sexuals,” I explained, “Blokes what sticks their whatsits up other blokes ass holes for pleasure.”
“What?” Emily gasped.
“You heard,” I said.
“Why?” she demanded
“How should I know?” I replied
“I shoudn’t like things stuck up me,” she sighed
“Well you’ll have to if thee goes on’t game.” I says.
“Mam says all I has to do is lie back and think of England,” she explained.
“While a bloke sticks his whatsit up your chuff,” I says, “Have you thought this through our Emily?”
“Not really, I suppose I should get some practice in?” she says, “Do you want to stick your thingy up my chuff?”
“Yes,” I said and me thingy stirred.
“Oh," she says, “Only our Mam said blokes needed turning on what ever that means.”
“Like a water tap, you can turn them on and turn them off,” I explained.
“Only I did these drawings of costumes like I wants.” she says and takes a little not pad from her pocket.
I took it flipped open a page and damn near shot me load, this girl had nowt on but a gown and it were buttoned by a single button by her navel and her tits were out and he cunt were bare, loads of them, bloody beautiful drawings, my woody was painful. I stood up unbuttonned my fly and let him out.
“Sorry our Emily,” I says, “Don’t be afeared but tha’s turned me on.”
“Well turn thee self off again that’s gross,” Emily says.
“Tha’ll have to take bigger than that up thee when thee’s on’t game.” I warned.
“Me mam never said,” Emily replied.
“Up the chuff, in the gob and up thee ass,” I said.
“I don’t fancy that,” she says.
“Well don’t go on’t game then,” I says.
“So what else do I do?” she asks.
“Oh,” I says, “I forgot thee was thick as two short planks, You’ll just have to practice.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “Will you help me practice?” she asked.
I shot me bloody load all over living room carpet, bloody pints of sticky stuff.
“Er uncle Eric, what just happened?” Emily asked.
“I shot me load premature like,” I said, “I should have shot it up thee cun or in the gob.”
“Oh I shouldn’t like that,” Emily replied.
“Well don’t go on the game then,” I suggested, “Go round to Summers on Evelyn Street, take thee drawings and see if they’ll give thee a job designing stuff for perverts and whores to wear.
“Summerses?” she asked.
“Used to be called Nameless Depravities R us,” I explained, “They made steam fucking machines, had a bit of bad luck when one exploded and scalded the Duke of Essex I think it were, so now it’s Summers engineering.”
“What’s a steam fucking machine?” Emily asked.
“You don’t want to know,” I explained, “Bloody nightmare I often gets asked to repair the bloody things.”
“But I do!” she replied.
“Look, Emily,” I says, “You’re a lovely girl but you don’t want spunk up you, you’re thick as two short planks, I really don’t know what to suggest you do, maybe you should become a Lesbian?”
“What’s a Lesbian?” Emily asked.
“A Woman who fucks other women,” I explained.
“Don’t be silly women don’t have thingies,” she reminded me.
“Look our Emily,” I says, “You have to accept you are really stupid, not just ordinary thick , really thick, and there aren’t many jobs for really thick people, Politicians obviously, Army officers, Policemen, Footballers. Footballers wives, Pop singers, Council officers.”
“Eee thanks uncle Eric,” she says, “I’ll do that.” And she did, and done very well for herself really, she’s now head of strategy for the (*********) Party