Mr B is completely distraught.
Why? I hear you worry - you are turning over in your sympathetic heads every sad occurrence
which could have caused such distress.
Has anyone died? That’s your first thought, whispered in hushed voice, hoping it won’t be so. It’s fine,
don’t worry, nobody in our close family or circle of friends has keeled over, not even ( Monty Python aficionados will be reassured to know) a dead parrot. I feel guilty for even having put the dread thought in your heads.
Maybe a sporting disaster, you are thinking, knowing that my Mr B is a Sports Lover like no other. You are (unless you are a Spurs supporter, in which case you know) wondering if the Mighty Tottenham
might have turned in a lack-lustre performance on the pitch, leaving the arena with their collective tails between their legs. But, no, Mr B is relatively sanguine about the fact that his team could only manage a draw with Rochdale the other evening in their
latest cup match. Had they lost, well, that would have been a different matter but as it is he feels able to be magnanimous towards Rochdale, playing their hearts out, as well as confident that the return match at Wembley will have a very different outcome.
He hasn’t lost any money. He hasn’t missed out on Lottery millions. He hasn’t mislaid anything precious. He hasn’t
received bad news from abroad - or anywhere else for that matter. He hasn’t been badly affected by a poignant film, newspaper article or TV programme.
the fact is I have just had to break it to him that KFC is closed because of a serious lack of chicken. Not just our local shop, you may have heard, but something like 750 of the chain’s 900 takeaways are affected. There will be no Mighty Meal - three
pieces, one helping of chips, a Diet Pepsi and a side of sweetcorn - for Mr B tonight.
Monday night is KFC night for Mr B. Indeed, if he had his way, virtually
every day in the week would be KFC night. KFC is Mr B’s Dinner of Choice. Were he on Death Row, offered a last supper of any food he fancied - caviar, steak and chips, roast beef dinner - he would almost certainly opt for KFC, possibly something like
a Bargain Sharing Bucket. Which he would then refuse to share with anyone.
Mr B’s predilection for KFC has caused a few minor disagreements between us in
the past. I feel as if my attempts to cook nutritious meals for the two of us are not appreciated as they should be. I’m not keen on the drive to our local outlet, particularly in the dark and especially because I’m never sure, till I get there,
how easy it will be to park. Combined with the fact that I don’t like KFC so will have to cook up something else for myself, you can perhaps begin to understand my reluctance. “What would you like for dinner today?” I used to ask him - to
which he would always growl in reply: “Well, I know what I would LIKE…” The unspoken inference being that he was being denied something very special.
In recent months, we have come to a compromise: Monday night is KFC Night. I am programmed to deliver, he knows what to expect. It has worked a treat - until today.
I read out the tweet issued by the company: “The chicken has crossed the road just not to our restaurants”. Well, I thought it was funny but Mr B wasn’t laughing. I reassured him that, according to KFC, “the Colonel is working
on it.” Mr B made harrumphing noises and insisted I check out the website which was providing information of shops that were still operational in case ours, or one nearby, might be listed. The nearest open shops, I reported sadly, were in Bognor Regis
or Brighton. Even Mr B wouldn’t insist on me travelling that far to fetch him his Chicken Fix.
He is over the worst of it now. He is coming round to a state
of Sad Acceptance, helped by the fact that I bought him a Double Cheese Burger From Uncle Sam’s Down the Road.
Hopefully, for the sake of his stomach and
my wellbeing, it will be Finger Licking Business As Usual by next Monday.