On living in a Brian Rix farce
My parents-in-law are rather excellent people.
This might come as a bit of a surprise, as in the whole panoply of comic writing, the mother-in-law gag is the one, great constant of British humour.
I like my mother-in-law, so, in comic terms, I feel I am letting the side down.
Working away from home on weekdays, the in-laws help me to keep my costs down by allowing me to stay overnight at their house once a week.
Both get up and leave for work at an unspeakably early hour, and I tend to get out of bed, dress and leave for work in my own time with the house to myself.
So, I did.
I wandered around upstairs in nothing but my birthday suit.
I had a shower with the door open, singing the crudest rugby songs I knew (about, I believe, a stupid dicky-di-dildo).
I did the biggest, smelliest, loudest poo in recent memory, with full commentary.
Then, seeking out a cup of tea, I went downstairs in nothing but a pair of pants…
… to find the mother-in-law watching GMTV in the living room
"What...? Why…? Wha…?"
"Oh, I didn't feel like going to work this morning."
"I'll…err… go and get dressed, then."
"Yes. I think you'd better had."
Fair play to her, she didn't laugh. Much.
A Brian Rix farce: I am in one.
"Oh crikey, there go my trousers"