So, I actually started this blog this morning
And I’m only just finishing it now, because I’m a lazy cow the internet today has completely sucked arse
So here it is, better late than never…
.
Last night we stayed in a big old English manor, that’s been converted into a hotel
Very fancy, with all the trimmings
I always wonder what they must think when our crew rocks up at these places
I mean, there’s old ladies having morning tea
And men in suits standing around, discussing cricket
A butler to take our bags
Very upperclass
Just like we are NOT
But this blog isn’t about how classy we ain’t
.
Let’s get back to the butler
He told me his name
But do you think I can remember pronounce it?
It sounded something like a gay stripper’s name Heinifitchyfarter
So I’m going to call him Henry
“Hotel Henry”
Hotel Henry was assigned as our personal concierge
I know, total fuckery isn’t it?
He kind of followed us around for a while asking if he could do anything, or get anything for us
And we’re all like, nah fuck it mate, we’re good
Just point us in the direction of the bar
I think Hotel Henry was a bit disappointed that he couldn’t be more helpful to us
‘Cause that kind of service and attention is pretty much wasted on us
We just come in, eat, nap, go to work, come back and sleep again
Oh, and if you’re Dad – poo about 35 times in between
Although he’s feeling better today
Yesterday he was up to 50!
.
So for us, not a lot of time to hang out really
.
Anyhooo
Hotel Henry was obviously a persistent little fucker determined to go ‘above and beyond’ for us
Or at least for me anyway
While I was out at the gig last night, he’d been into my room
Nothing wrong with that
He just did the whole, fold down the sheets, leave a chocolate on the pillow thingy
Lovely really
But here’s where Hotel Henry got a bit weird took it to the next level
Right next to the chockie on my pillow, was a letter
Or actually more of a poem
That I think he’d written
And then he’d left 2 apples on the dresser
.
Now, keep in mind that I checked in by myself
He’d even asked me earlier what time could we expect ‘MR TALIA’ to arrive
And I told him that ‘MR TALIA’ was buried in the backyard in Chicago, and not joining me
.
So there’s also 2 plates
And 2 knives
And 2 bottles of water
And tea service
For 2 of course
And here’s the kicker
Where there WAS one bath robe hanging behind the door when I left for work
Now there was, yep, you guessed it, TWO!
So I‘m not sure if Hotel Henry was trying to offer me his no doubt tiny dweeby penis extra service
And maybe I’m just jumping to conclusions
But that’s sure what it looked like to me?!?!
So I double-dead-bolted-locked the door
And put a chair against it for good measure
And it was all good – no little ‘tap, tap’ on my door last night
Not that I would have heard it anyway with a bottle of wine under my belt ‘cause I sleep really heavily
And when I opened my door this morning
Hotel Henry was right there waiting to scare the shit out of me
To take my suitcase to the car
.
So I was wrong
He’s just a really nice little guy
Who’s eager to please
And likes everything in pairs
.
And I’ve got 2 pairs of undies missing to prove it
Maybe there were 2 hidden cameras too…one in the room & one in the bathroom…He was most likely watching (with 2 eyes), a pair of undies in each hand, to keep the “Twos” theme going (one for each nostril)…just in case you needed a thing or two… 😉