The Greasy Spoon - 31st March 2026

Bob and Joe discuss the doctors strike, and a way to solve the UK energy crisis

—I support our doctors, Bob. I do. 

—Right, there’s a ‘but’ comin’ in’t there? 

—Yeah…

—Go on?

—I can barely say it. But I agree with Starmer on this one. They’re takin’ the piss, mate. 

—Ah. 

—What?

—Tricky one. 

—No, it ain’t. Another above inflation pay rise? Fuck me, nobody else is gettin’ that. 

—There is that—

—Yeah, and another thing, ‘ave yer tried getting a doctor’s appointment?

—Well, that’s the GPs, mate—

—Yeah, I know. But still. 

—NHS is buggered. But bloody striking doctors don’t help.

—True, mate. 

—Brenda’s on today. 

—Fuckin’ brill. Sarnie then? 

—Yeah, definitely. I didn’t ‘ave any breakfast to make room. 

—Bob? 

—Wha’? 

—You’ve got bugger all in again, have yer? 

—Er—

—Get some bloody shopping in will yer? 

—Yeah, I’ll call in on the way ‘ome. 

—Yeah, and not just bloody crisps and biscuits, right? 

—Yes, mum. 

—Sod off, I’m just tryin’ to help yer. 

—Getting the sarnies would be a good start. 

…

—‘Ere we go…

—Nectar. 

—Joe? 

—Wha’? 

—You’ve had a sauce incident again. 

—Ah, shit. This shirt was clean on today an’ all!

—Urgh! Yer dirty bugger! Don’t lick it—

—Don’t want it to stain. 

—Lickin’ the bugger won’t help. 

—You know what, Bob?

—Yeah? 

—I’ve got an answer for the energy crisis.

—Fuck, this should be good—

—Stick your arse over a turbine or summat. 

—Cheeky bugger. 

—You would be. 

—Eh?

—Well, with your arse cheeks in the turbine—

—Fuck off with that, now. 

—Our gas output would go up by about 60%.

—Bollocks. 

—You fart. A lot. 

—Well, true. I thought about bottling it. 

—What for? 

—Sell it as camping gas to them outdoor shops. 

—Bloody hell! That’d be dangerous, that would. “Put the barbecue on, there”. WHOOMP! 

—Hahahahaha! 

—Funny man, you are, daft bloody apeth. 

—Another brew?

—Yeah, need to wash me sandwich down.