dr gloom

“Morning Sir, what’s your poison?”

“Landlord you don’t seem to recognise me.”

“How should I Sir…you’re not one of my regular punters – indeed I don’t recall seeing you in these parts previously.”

“Crikey it must have worked then.”

“What must have worked Sir?”

“The head transplant I just had.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright Sir. I mean a head transplant – I’ve never heard the like of it! And who exactly do you think you are?”

“It’s me Landlord…me, your loyal customer. None other than Dr Gloom no less!”

“Now, now Sir, Dr Gloom is a right miserable sod and an ugly bastard to boot. I detect you’ve a unique perma-smile and the look of one who has seen more than his fair share of the good things life can afford those of a positive demeanour. It is thus that I feel you must be pulling my plonker.”

“Fuck me…look it really is me…go on ask me a question only the real Dr Gloom would know and I’ll prove it’s me…in the meantime a pint of the usual please.”

“A pint of the usual? That’ll be a light and bitter then?”

“You know full well I have never, never ever had a cocktail of bottled gnat’s piss drown that muck you serve up as real ale.”

“Pint of best then is it?”

“You know full well it is.”

“Here you go then Sir, wrap the old laughing tackle about this then. Enjoy.”

“I’ll do my level best to…right ask me that question then.”

“OK if you are who you say you tell me this – what was your most gloomed riddled tale of woe of all time.”

“Easy one that is! That was the day, two years ago this very month when I, having misplaced my reading glasses inadvertently swallowed whole next door’s tortoise having assumed it was a Cornish pasty – as you well know I have always enjoyed them as a cold snack rather than heated up. As I inserted into my gob said tortoise it must have wiggled just a bit causing me to be taken aback somewhat and in the ensuing panic I swallowed the bastard.  Plainly I rushed round to the A&E in the hope of a swift stomach pump yet they wouldn’t touch me with a barge pole preferring instead to call out both the local constabulary and the RSPCA. I was arrested on pain of a kicking and later convicted of cruelty to a member of the Testudinidae family of land-dwelling turtles in the order Testudines and fined £1,000. The details of my case under the headline, ‘Sicko, Dr Gloom of 5 Herring Bone Close, Penge Eats Neighbours Tortoise’ curse my each and every day even now. I still get hate mail from animal rights campaigners and, with some regularity get bricks thrown at my windows – indeed the very same bricks you collected from my front garden in order to build your lock up shed out the back with.  Plus, you will recall the day I, having felt a significant stirring within my bowels passed the creature in the lavvy of this very pub of yours smashing the pan in the process as it descended from my A-piece causing me considerable pain born of an almost impossible expansion of the sphincter.  Upon emission I understand that it was still very much alive until it drowned of course. It was just my luck that in the next cubicle sat the chairman of Animal Rights UK who had me arrested once more for having asphyxiated the creature – refusing to accept it was the self-same one I had swallowed previously. A further criminal conviction ensued and I have been henceforth and far and wide known as a ‘The Tortoise Serial Killer of Penge.’ Now is that sufficient confirmation for you to accept that I am indeed the real Dr Gloom?”

“So it really is you Gloomo! Where on earth did you get the head transplant?”

“Oh I was out for my usual morning constitutional, on my way to this pit you call a public house when I spotted a new popup shop in the High Street called ‘Head Transplants R Us’. Given that my face, having appeared in both local and national news media is easily recognizable I am in constant fear of assault I thought this new enterprise could prove just the ticket to a new life out of the public eye.”

“What so you went in then?”

“Of course I fucking went in…how do you think I got this new fucking head. Twat. The bloke behind the counter got out a brochure of heads from which he asked me to choose a new one and I went for this smiley face jobby! It’s rather fine don’t you think?”

“Well it’s not really you…I mean I’ve never seen you smile once in your life yet now you have a rather annoying stupid grin about you that never abates. I preferred your old fizzog if the truth be told. What’s more I reckon Mavis the new barmaid, odd girl that she is, won’t shag you now.”

“What do you mean…that big breasted girl with legs all the way up to her brain who tends the bar on Friday nights?”

“That’ll be Mavis.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she wanted to shag me.”

“Forgot Gloomo – sorry about that.”

“And you don’t think she’ll want me to slip her one now I’ve got this new face…me, the very same Dr Gloom who hasn’t got his leg across for these past 27 years?”

“Not a hope in hell. She’s not long divorced her husband ‘Smiling Derek the Axe Murderer’…he’s serving a full life term by the way. I don’t think she’d go near a bloke with a smile again in her life – that’s why she took a shine to you…you know what with you being the epitome of abject misery.”

“Fuck it, just my rotten luck.”



    1. Double jeopardy. It is the same here although I recall for murder we’ve not long changed the rules in the event new evidence unavailable at the first trial comes to light.

      1. not sure, but I think here a new evidence discovery can only prompt a new trial if there had been a conviction – if it was an acquittal, I don’t believe they can be retried regardless new evidence – seem to recall acquitted people who later publicly confessed and thumbed their nose at the prosecutors

      2. Over on this side of the pond, since 2005 The Court of Appeal can now quash an acquittal and order a retrial when “new and compelling” evidence is produced. Seems a fine idea in my book.

    1. I’ve never had a head transplant yet I recall the day when I was 15 maybe 16 when I purchased my first 10 cigarettes and a box of matches. I went up to the bathroom so as to lite my first fag (away from my mothers gaze) yet got it all wrong and the match set fire to my eyebrows and eye lashes transforming my face in an instant – I felt so very cheated that no one, not even my mum noticed the difference!

  1. Bwaaahaahaaaaa! Oh, this was hilarious! I guess that bump on the head and your torn rotator cuff immobilized you long enough to come up with some more of your brilliant lunacy that I love!

    1. Cheers – a shoulder transplant would be a good thing. Do you know she has a big electric massage thing her mother (who had a bad back) gave her years ago. She offered to use it upon my shoulder and seemed surprised when I said ‘fuck off’ – odd that!

      1. Getting better yet I still don’t fancy lifting things. She slipped and fell in the street on Saturday. One minute we were chatting away, next she’d gone. Spotted her flat on her back on the pavement – thankfully no damage done. You see she was wearing her high boot things with a smooth sole in icy weather. Told her off of course!

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