“Look Mrs. Angry. Look at this. It’s a national disgrace.”
Mr. Angry had forgotten that he had sent Mrs. Angry back to the bar of The Moaning Cow public house to fetch his nightly packet of pork scratchings and another drink.
“What’s upsetting you Mr. Angry?” she asked as she placed his pint of lager in front of him.
“We’re going to need to borrow an additional £11 billion over the next two years because the Office for Budget Responsibility has got the forecasts wrong.”
“Disgraceful Mr. Angry.”
“It gets worse Mrs. Angry. The lager’s warm. Some think thank thinks the Government may need to borrow £170 billion more over the next five years.”
“Is it the fault of the French Mr. Angry?”
“Everything is to do with the frogs Mrs. Angry. They’re blaming the fall in tax receipts. Just think if we ran your washing business like the Government runs the nation’s finances.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well you charge one pound to wash a shirt. We get the electricity from the cable I’ve run beneath the house to next door, I borrowed the washing machine in the middle of the night from the laundrette, you sneak out the washing powder from Tesco while I pretend to have a heart attack and we manage to net 90p profit. What would happen if I got my figures wrong? We’d have to cancel our two weeks in Barbados.”
“By the way have our benefits cheques arrived?”
“A day late Mrs. Angry because of the doctor’s strike and anyway we bank with NatWest. Did you see their chairman Steve Leicester apologising for the computer problems? Last time he was on TV it was to justify his bonus.”
“I don’t know what the country’s coming to Mr. Angry”
“Can you get me another packet of pork scratchings. I’ll distract the bar staff by dropping my empty glass. Usually works.”