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One of the strangest things that’s happened during my time spent nightshift freezer-stacking up at Tesco is that me and a guy called Terry (although I insist upon calling him Terrence, as it is ‘the Brian Clough in me’ – he used to call Teddy Sheringham Edward, if you recall) have developed duo-style nicknames.
Now Terrence started doing nightshifts at exactly the same time as me (Friday 27th March, to be both precise and pedantic about matters), also down the fabled Aisle-12. He’s older than me, about 6 inches shorter, and entirely of different proportions. Indeed, if it wasn’t for his “cute little beer-belly” (one of his former ‘bird’s’ apparently once referred to it as that), I doubt he’d weigh much over 8 stone.
The thing is, these nicknames only came about since I belatedly started wearing a PPE face-mask (for my sins, I was slow to act) and to be honest, they don’t make any sense whatsoever.
Can you guess what we’re called?
Laurel & Hardy? Nope.
Rodney & Del Boy? Incorrectamundo.
Batman & Robin? Doh.
Clearly it’s ‘something to do with my mask’, but the guy who so christened us has got it all arse about face, back to front, totally jumbled up, because THE LONE RANGER & TONTO simply isn’t accurate.
What’s more, he calls ME bloody Tonto!