The Greasy Spoon - In The Beginning

Meet Bob and Joe. Two grumpy old men from Coventry, putting the world to rights.

—This place is shite, innit Joe?

—It’s cheap so good shite. 

—S’pose. 

—We eating? 

—Might in a bit. Coffee first. 

—Sounds like a plan. 

—Did yer get that appointment through?

—Yeah.

—When for?

—Next time there is a bloody eclipse. Tha’s what it feels like.

—Months away, then? 

—Yeah, months. Me knee will likely have fallen off by then.

—That’ll solve the problem, won’t it? I’ve got an angle grinder. I can sort it for yer. 

—Ha! Fuck off, you. 

—‘Ow’s your Gracie getting on?

—Still fucking moaning all the time. One of these days she’ll find a job she likes. 

—She’s young, she’ll learn. 

—Yeah, she’s me daughter but a right bloody pain in the arse sometimes. 

—‘Ere, did yer see tha’ old Frank died? 

—Poor old fucker. 

—He didn’t treat ‘is missus right. Never did. 

—She don’t wanna go to his funeral.

—Think she’ll actually go?

—She don’t want to. But I reckon she will.

—He was old school. 

—Ah, yeah. 

—‘Ere, Bob. Did yer see they’re doing them roadworks up on the Brum Road again? 

—Fucking waste o’ time, that is. —It’ll be all torn up again in six months. 

—Look at the state o’ that. 

—Bloody ‘ell. I reckon she nicked her gran’s curtains. 

—Probably works in tha’ new place. 

—Ah yeah, the one where they sit on fucking beanbags? 

—Yeah.

—Bloody adult kids or wha’? 

—Yeah, I’d be like: Oi! Gimme a damn chair. 

—This coffee ain’t bad. 

—Are you gonna go to Frank’s funeral? 

—Dunno. Fucking ‘ate funerals. 

—I know mate, but it’s old Frank. 

—So wha? I’m sure he still owes me a fiver. 

—Does he? 

—Yep. I reckon so.

—Fuck it, then. Don’t bother. 

—Nah, you’re right. 

—Shall we ‘ave another one?

—Yeah, there’s no queue.