ABBA - the untold story
July 27th 2007 22:32
There I was hoovering to the strains of Ring Ring when the formidable sight of a 115 kilogram Italian brick-layer greeted me with a look of complete bewilderment.
“What’s the story mate?
“Didn’t know ya liked Abba . . . “
Now with no intellectual escape route – I did what any self-respecting bloke with do – and lied through my teeth.
“Damn kids,” I exclaimed.
“Mate – you tell em a million times, don’t leave the CD player on . . .
“Hang on, I’ll just go and turn it down.”
Resplendent in the most regal of housework attire – I turned toward the living room confident that I’d managed to skulk out of what had the potential to be a very ‘malevolent’ situation – when I heard this Colossus of Rhodes interject . . .
“na – you’re right mate, I don’t mind some of their stuff.”
Hmmmm – was this a cagey set-up – designed by the testosterone police to crime-lab the chromosome credo?
Perhaps it was a ruse to deflect attention from the fact that he’d just traipsed two inches of mud up the hallway . . .
“Yeah – remember the blonde one,” he said.
“Was she hot or what. . .? And what about the other one – what was her name – yeah Freida – she wasn’t too bad either.”
And so the banter went. All the while – Super Trouper, Waterloo, Mamma Mia and Take A Chance on Me played on in the background.
“ S**t mate – look at the time,” said the Adonis
“I’d better be off, thanks for the beer – I’ll see you Saturday.”
And with that he sauntered out the front door whistling to himself.
A wry grin perched itself somewhere in my mind's eye
Hasta Mañana I thought to myself - Hasta Mañana my friend - till we meet again.
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