Mother left in car park as couple head off to France
"A couple alerted police at one of Britain's busiest ports after accidentally leaving their elderly mother behind in a car park at Dover while taking a ferry trip to France. The pair made an urgent call to the Port of Dover Police after discovering mid-way across the Channel that their relative was still sitting in the vehicle in the multi-storey car park."
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This is clearly a case of murder the in laws. Mummikins is being a grade A pain in the ass all the way to Dover and the couple used the age old threat of "Don't make me stop this car young..I mean ...old lady." This was blatantly a rookies error. Those of you with any semblance of wit or self preservation would have guessed by the foot long furrows on this dames face she was probably the genius who invented this parental gem. Anyway, dear mummy-in-law decides that her not so new daughter-in-law is getting way too big for the fake designer boots that HER son had bought for her and calls their bluff.
Now, imagine the scene.....
Dover Port dolesome, dreary and drizzling.
Harried mothers dragging red-nosed children in anoraks eating ice-cream, whilst trying to clean their runny noses on the shoulder of aforementioned anoraks.
Three tense figures in a nearly new navy blue ford escort. A stale yellow air freshner in the shape of a pine tree hanging from the rear view mirror in which the fearsome mother-in-law is glaring into with rage.
Firstly, she has been relegated to the back seat. Her place, as the head of the family, is in the front with her son. Secondly, who wants to go to France. It's full of frogs and french things. She's never really trusted the french you see. Not even during the war. They're all so 'arty farty' which is just the french for being too lazy and hedonistic to get a job or abide by the rules of common decency. In England even the unemployed men had more respectable pursuits i.e. meeting the 'boys' for a few pints down at the 'Dog and Goat', playing darts and putting money on the horses down at the bookies.
Now; cut to the wife...a straight from the bottle red head, wearing a fuschia pink tracksuit top which clashes brilliantly with the magenta lipstick she is applying in the left wing mirror in an effort not to turn around and slap the old hag behind her. Little does she know that she will be exactly like her in about 10-12 years time.
Lo and behold the man himself. In the driver's seat, white knuckled hands wringing the steering wheel in an attempt not to scream at the two battleaxes which were more than likely the cause of his premature hairloss. God he wanted a fag, but since both of them had forced him to give up 5 years previous, even that simple pleasure was lost to him. From the corner of his eye he sees his wife's head jerking strangely and interprets this as a 'get out of the car, I want to scream at you for a moment' gesture.
They get out of the car and she lets off some choice words which he doubts even some of the sailors coming into port are familiar with.
"Come on lovey, she's just an old lady, she has no-one except us. She'll come around. I promise. Lets go grab a quick cuppa and you'll be right as rain again."
Wife's face turns a startling shade of purple and her gestures become more frenzied and violent.
Husband gently nudges her towards the tea vending machine next to the embarking area of the now infamous ferry to France. Husband inserts the necessary coins and watches listlessly as the dirt coloured liquid is poured into the squeaky polystyrene cups.
Wifey needs the bathroom. She makes her way over to the public toilets only to find a substantial queue. Then she spots the ferry toilets. Yes, genius, she'll use those ones. She enters the cubicle, bloody door doesn't shut properly, typical! She shouts over a group of cold and confused foreigners, to her oaf of a husband and tells him to get on the boat and hold the door shut while she pees and adds to her already impressive amount of make-up.
Husband tries to hurry her up a little. She refuses. This continues for 15mins. Finally, she exits the toilet in a cloud of chokingly cheap perfume, just in time to see the crowd of cold and confused foreigners get smaller and smaller, seemingly by magic.