Last of the Summer Wine

 

Having watched Last of the Summer Wine on TV, it’s always made me look forward to retirement. One day when I’m old and grey, I’ll be able to hang out in a tranquil Yorkshire town, with beautiful countryside, with my old high school buddies who I’ve known all my life.  

 

Well it’s a nice thought anyway. Forget the fact that my old high school buddies have never bothered to even give me a phone call in the last 25 years, let alone turned up on my doorstep with a bottle of JD.   How it is these guys on this show managed to stay in contact all their lives is a mystery to me. But here they are, in their twilight years getting to hang out just like they used to do as teenagers. And if one of them happens to move on, another old high school buddy arrives to take their spot. In fact, it seems that in this town, everybody seems to have gone to school with each other. 

  

If I do decide to move to Yorkshire I will most definitely not be hooking up with any woman from there, I can tell you that much. After all, let’s face it, they’re all a bunch of domineering old dragons who sit around drinking tea all day moaning about the deficiencies of men. When they’re not doing that they are trying to make their men’s lives a misery and they enjoy doing it! These women make it their life’s ambition to make their men unhappy.

 

To be honest, I’m not sure I’d get along with a lot of the men there either, because they’re all a bunch of spineless wimps who can’t stand up for themselves. I’d be tempted to bully them because they’re so blatantly pathetic they deserve it!

 

But still, what great laughs you’d have, right? Can you just imagine hanging out with Foggy, Clegg and Compo, whiling away the hours out there under the Yorkshire sun (at least when it is shining), admiring the countryside? You can guarantee Compo will do something crazy that will have you in stitches and that you’ll be able to gang up on Foggy and poke fun at his pomposity. Then you can head over to Ivy’s and eat big raspberry buns. (Although I’d talk the guys into going somewhere, where you get friendlier and more professional service.) 

Then you can head over and harass Norah Batty about her wrinkled stockings. Just watch out for that broom and buckets of water.  

 

Make sure you stay well clear of Aunty Wainwrights’ second-hand store though. You don’t want to be caught dead in there unless you want to find yourself being tricked into buying some piece of useless rubbish. 

 

I have to say, it’s a pleasure to watch “Last of the Summer Wine” and it’s great to see all these old famous English comedians from years gone by, getting another chance at being a TV star again. Grab your wellies, make sure your ferrets are locked up and sit down and watch this show. It’s great English TV.

 

 

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