Are you sitting comfortably?
By denni1
- 929 reads
'Can we have a quiet word, please?'
'Of course. What can l help you with this evening'.
Now. The alarm started jingle-belling straight away. These nice folk had left their expensive, premier seats at the start of the interval. I noticed them climbing up from row B. I was waiting for the all clear from backstage. The show started up again in a couple of minutes.
'May we sit down there?' The very smart looking gentleman pointed to a vacant space where two elderly ladies had left soon after curtain up. Family crisis, apparently.
'Yes, you may and thank you for asking. But can l just enquire as to why? You've the best seats in the house there. Were you uncomfortable?'
The middle aged couple looked at each other. What was going on?
It took a few seconds of them appealing into each others eyes before she said, 'lt's a personal hygiene situation. I have to. Move. It was making me gag'.
She turned away, and her companion put a comforting hand on her cashmered shoulder.
Oh?
My
Where
Who
Him?
Yes, l could see how that might be difficult. A huge man with a gigantic belly dressed in a Christmas pudding onesie had caught my eye, way over other side of the Grand Circle auditorium. He was standing and clapping to the orchestra tuning up. Or maybe he was just clapping. Wonder if he had a ticket. Must have, as it was sold out Saturday night.
' What about your friends? Didn't you have a large party of people with you'
'We went outside to get some fresh air as soon as we could. It's very embarrassing all round, isn't it, dear'
I hadn't come across this before. We do deal with numerous instances during a show or performance, but it's usually alcohol or illness related. A stinky bastard was a new one on me.
It was getting closer to the second act and patrons were filing in, drinks slipping about in plastic cups like specimens at a hospital ward.
I ran over to my colleague who was nearest to the odour monger. Apparently, stinky had put his pudding suit on at the break. What the fuck?! A nut job, for sure. The manager would be dashing around the place to give clearance from backstage. I had to do something. There was a queue of patrons asking to change their seats. Ten, to be precise. We don't have any seats to get them away from the sweating sweet. Aha! A discretionary light bulb moment struck. Everyone was tut tutting and looking at me and the new Christmas wee lassie working the busy middle section of the huge grand circle. We need to hurry this along so the Troubled Ten could take their seats.
The conductor had stepped into the orchestra pit. I had thirty seconds, tops.
'Hello sir. You look quite fabulous this evening. And. As we have a first prize for the best dressed at 'White Christmas' show, you are now entitled to sit in our very own V I P box! Yessir. Do come this way'.
As the signature tune began and the magnificent curtain rose, we descended the few steps, and managed to usher puddin' chops into a space where the Queen has frequented.
A quick scoosh of Fabreeze should sort the upholstery out later.
Happy days ..
- Log in to post comments
Comments
Brilliantly funny denni. The
Brilliantly funny denni. The stinky pud. You saved the day as well.
- Log in to post comments
Brilliant. Can you get me a
Brilliant. Can you get me a Christmas Pudding Onesie for Christmas please? x
- Log in to post comments