The return of Fat Jim

“Hi.” said Fat Jim over the phone, somewhat drearily. “I need a favour.”

“Nice to hear from you Fat Jim.  You need a favour eh?”

“Yes.”

“Does it involve effort or expense on my part?”

“No, not really.”

“Okay then, shoot.”

“Do you have Stan’s number?”

“Yes, yes I do.” I replied, wondering why he wanted the number of our friend, the handyman.

“Can you send it to me please.”

“Why?  What do you need doing?”

“Nothing major.  But I really need him in the next hour or so.”

This was intriguing.  Requests for home improvements rarely come with a time frame of less than an hour, so unless his new wife wanted him to re-tile the bathroom while she was at Waitrose I was completely lost.

“Tell me why you need him, and I’ll text you his number.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry.  I won’t tell anyone.”

This was true.  I have not told anyone about this.  And technically, I am not telling anyone about it now.  I am merely uploading certain relevant pieces of information to the Internet.  What happens to it then is beyond my control.

“Don’t laugh, but I’ve locked myself in.”

“Ha!  You mean you’ve locked yourself ‘out’, obviously.”

“No.  I’ve locked myself IN.  I’ve broken the lock mechanism and can’t open the front door from the inside.  I need to be somewhere in an hour, and I think if I leave through the front room window, one of my neighbours will call the police.”

“What if you call the police first, to warn them?  Just let them know that you are the owner of that property and that you will be breaking out in the next hour or so.  It is your duty as a law abiding citizen.”

“Look, can I have the sodding number or not?”

“It depends, can I tell people about this?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Fair enough, I can see how it would be a bit embarrassing if it got out.  I’ll text it to you now.”

I was still chuckling to myself a good ten minutes later when Fat Jim sent me a text message.

“I am an idiot.  I deleted that message, can you send his number again please?  Pretty please?”

He’s right.  He is a fucking idiot.

8 comments

  1. ubermouth · January 5, 2009

    Poor fat Jim. I hope you’re not his only ‘friend.’

  2. Mr Farty · January 5, 2009

    Maybe he couldn’t leave through the window because he…just couldn’t?

    I like your Google ads for liposuction and fat2fitness, very apt.

  3. Keef · January 5, 2009

    Why didn’t he just leave the house by the back door? Does his house only have 1 door?

  4. Mr Angry · January 5, 2009

    ubermouth – I can only assume nobody else picked up.

    Mr Farty – That is a distinct possibility.

    Keef – His back door leads to his back garden, which is bordered on all sides by other people’s back gardens. I think climbing out of a window was preferable to rocking up at a barely known neighbour’s back door…

  5. Keef · January 5, 2009

    That strikes me as a very badly designed house what does he do when he mows the grass in his back garden then? carry the mower grassbox through the house?, throw it over the roof? burn it all and choke his neighbours in a cloud of toxic fumes?
    I can just imagine what my wife would say if I pushed the brown wheelie bin through the middle of the kitchen rather than down the drive.
    You’re right he’s an idiot why else would he buy an house with no access to the back?

  6. Manic · January 5, 2009

    He is worryingly like me. As I’m adopted I wonder…..

  7. Megan · January 5, 2009

    I think there’s something more to the story. I can’t imagine neighbors panicking to the point of police involvement simply because a local chose to try to squeeze through his front window as an alternative to the door. They might imagine he had a prophetic dream that Death awaited him at the door or that his fortune cookie last night informed him he needed to try new things and break his normal routine. Also, couldn’t he have shouted out to the neighbors as he exited explaining the situation and assuring them that the authorities need not be notified? Nope, he’s definitely not telling the whole truth here. The rest probably has something to do with a Puss in Boots costume and a traumatized pig.

  8. Angelalala · January 5, 2009

    He’s gone right downhill since he got married…