Mr. Dale's Diary

Monday 18th

EXTRACTS from a diary that have been sent to Northern Voices.  This is the sixth extract.

This is the diary of a man of our times.  Any resemblance to anyone living is, of course, purely coincidental.

Monday, 18th, January 2016:

AWOKE with a slight head.  I think my diary needs to share the following tale, which shows what a fine fellow I am.

Being Mr Dale, a man of influence, I occasionally leave the world of self-aggrandizement, to help others, for my own self-aggrandizement.  A poor lass, one 'Facit Franny' was desperate for me.  A woman of limited means from the next village.  She arrived at one’s HQ.  She needed bread for her kids.  One’s trusty man-servant advised caution but I poo-poohed him.

In conversation it emerged we both used to watch Rochdale AFC games as die-hard fans until it wasn’t self-serving enough.  I offered her succour which she did for two Warbies medium white.  Her old Nokia 1200 was incapable of incriminating me by saved texts.  She is a good 25 years older than me so that would throw the wolves off the scent yet still satisfy one’s needs for a private life.  A result in one way, but with limited photo opportunities and associated wealth in t’other.

I related the tale to my man. 'Very good Sir', he replied.  Therefore, I am good. Time to get the forms out and submit an expenses claim for those two Warbies medium white.

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