"Blessed cool off, you don't want to see me buss de tool off"The source of this particular pet peeve can be found in the recesses of my childhood memories. For me, the name Brian will perennially be associated with a certain breed of grey and/or bald headed middle-aged man. This is a consequence of the aftermath of my parents separation, and the subsequent period of time my mother spent as a singleton. During this 'era' an uncanny amount of my mothers suitors went by the name of 'Brian'. So marked was this trend, I now refer to this part of my life as 'the Brian years'. While none of these Brian's were especially offensive (though randomly 2 were school janitors!?) the name itself inevitably picked up negative connotations.
As I have often said, you would have to be a pretty kooky 8-year old to embrace the idea of a paunchy stranger macking your mum.
I mentioned earlier that these chaps were all pretty harmless, but one episode has managed to leave emotional scar that I fear will never heal. Due to the incident in question, I now can't encounter a 'Brian' without recollecting a gruesome getting-to-know-you dinner that took place at the Dartford Harvester.
On arrival at our ill-placed Harvester, we were greeted by a gloomy food-pit staffed by an understandably disconsolate workforce. The disparity between the convivial, Shalamar sound tracked eatery portrayed on the adverts, and that which faced us in immediate reality set a torrid tone for the meal ahead. Unsurprisingly events took a turn for the farcical when the-Brian-of-the-day opted for the egg platter (6 eggs plus trimmings). I still remember the expression of resignation that overcame my mother as this order was placed. Needless to say that the act of watching a human being consume such a meal was pretty harrowing for both me and my mother.
Even without possessing my partially repressed childhood issues, it appears many people share my Brian-based antipathy. This would explain the welcome dearth of fresh Brian's currently being raised in the UK.
it was not the fried egg platter that caused the sudden demise of the relationship. Rather the fact that his two sons played football in the tront room and he whined pathetically "stop it boys you are embarrasing me". Embarrassing HIM. I was seething with rage that my precious knick knacks were subject to such abuse. A treasured ashtray was smashed and he was embarrassed.FFS.
ReplyDeleteHe displayed no respect for any of my treasured trinkets after 3 months of an increasingly tedious and turgid relationship. I decided to terminate it 2 days before my 50th birthday. It transpired that he had ordered an array of " special helium balloons" and flew into a rage when he discovered that he could not get a rebate......
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