Fat Brenda's Queen's Speech An' That!

Annus horribilus! You don’t know the half of it! If it wan’t for that ointment I got from’t medical centre it’d still be bothering me now!

I’ll do me posh voice now.

When one thinks back over’t year, one cannot help but reflect on what an ‘orrible one it’s been an’ that. One has witnessed domestic abuse from that Kirsty; one has seen murders (right pain in the arson that one was); affairs; revenge; car accidents; cancer; the flamin’ lot! One sits on the throne here at Streetcars (not the loo, the cab office chair) and wonders what it is that keeps one here and then it dawned on one an’ that.

Hope - not Fiz’s kid what she had with that nutter John Stape; hope like proper hope. Hope for a better future; hope that Kylie will stop being annoying; hope that Tracy will go back to flamin’ prison; hope that someone will just tell Norris to bog off; hope that someone will explain why Nick has aged fifteen years… mind you, I’ve a theory on that. I think Nick ages in dog years; it’s the only thing that explains it.

Doing nights chained to a switchboard with nowt to do but play Sudoku and pop outside for a twice-hourly Dunhill means one gets to see the best and worst of Weatherfield. I see Dev keeping his shop open for everyone what lives here so they can pay over the odds for condensed milk; Emily and Sophie going to church to help them less fortunate than ‘emsleves – and if there is anyone out there less fortunate than either Emily or Sophie you have me flamin’ sympathy!

But for every good deed there’s a Karl burning down a pub or a Tina putting it about like a manky moggy in mating season. But then loveys, that’s life in’t it; there’s good and bad. And on this Cliffmas day let’s celebrate everyone and everything cos like the song says:

“A time for giving, a time for getting,

A time for forgiving and for forgetting.

Christmas is love, Christmas is peace,

A time for hating and fighting to cease.”

A lovely sentiment, loveys… and if you think that’s gonna happen in Weatherfield you’ve more screws loose than a flat-pack unit put up by Owen Armstrong!

We are going to lose Hayley soon and so it’s her I ask you to consider when life seems hard; when yer wages are going down and yer shopping bill’s going up; when it seems like life has kicked you in’t teeth, think of her and all those dear departed friends that have taken that black cab into the sky for one last milk stout before last orders…

Cliff bless you all loveys.

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