Sawyer the Lawyer

Mother was back from Hartlepool in good time to try out the fish from the Indian chippy. I wish she’d have stopped in Hartlepool a day longer. If anything it was even worse than that from the Chinese chippy. Well they claimed it was a fish, it looked (and smelled) more like an onion bhaji to which they’d added a dollop of past its sell by date Whiskas. I said as much to Mother. Father said a starving African would be glad of it. Although he’d said exactly the same thing when I complained about the Chinese fish, and he’d said it many times before whenever I’d complained about food, I was going to let it go and put it down to his ignorance, then I remembered that the other day I’d seen a coloured family moving in a few doors down.
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A few minutes later I was round there. “Good morning, I’m your new neighbour, Terry Sawyer, from number 33”, I said to the man who answered the door. He was probably a West Indian rather than an African if the dreadlocks were anything to go by, but he was quite thin, if not starving, and needs must. “I wonder if you could do me a favour?”

I led him into the dining room where Mother and Father were by this time on their apple crumble. I’d told Bob Marley (I forgot to ask his name) that I wanted him to give me a lift shifting a wardrobe as there was a chance he wouldn’t have come if I’d told him the real reason. I led him over to the table. Mother and Father immediately got to their feet. I pointed accusingly at the Indian fish and said to Bob: “Would you eat that if you were starving?”

“Who is this gentleman, Terry? Aren’t you going to introduce us?” said Mother.

“All in good time, Mother.” I turned to Bob. “Well?”

He looked at it more closely. “What is it?”

“You might well ask. It purports to be a fried fish. Would you eat it?”

I stood back, arms folded, confident that his reply would be in the negative. He gingerly broke, or rather ripped, a corner off the fish, put it in his mouth and chewed on it. Then, rather than pulling a face and spitting it out, as I fully expected it, he swallowed it. Then he said: “Quite tasty. Yes, I’d eat it.”

Words failed me. Mother said: “You can finish it if you like, Mr…..If you haven’t already eaten. There’s apple crumble for afters.”

I don’t know whether he did eat it because I left there and then and went up to my room.

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