Uncle Jim has always seemed to be a carefree type, with his trademark lopsided toothy grin and his chirpy banter, his foppish hairstyle and his trendy selection of vynil records. Even his garlic breath and enormous foetid big toe seems to have done little to dampen his spirits. However the churnal has learned of the hidden anguish of uncle Jim. We spoke to him recently ...
I used to eat most things as a young lad, I'd eat sprouts, liver the lot you know. Pate smothered thick on a big rivita biscuit. Kidney and kidney beans. I'd even eat peas pudding for christ sake. There was only one thing I don't like was butter beans. But was I allowed to leave them on the side of the plate. Was I buggery!
Jim shuddered as he recalled this painful memory, his shoulders drooping and his head sinking as he continued...
My ma used to force me to eat them you know but I hated them really. The one food I hated but I had to eat it! My sisters were horrible they used to laugh at the look of revulsion and distaste on my face as I ate my butter beans. Its really a combination of the taste and the texture that I dislike really, I mean come on. Why? Why did I have to eat them? Even now Anne puts them on my plate hidden amongst all the other veggies. She thinks I don't notice but I do. I just hide them behind the sideboard. She hasn't noticed yet.
Jim's face brightened up as he thought about the stash of butter beans behind the sideboard and his devious avoidance of the detested dish, but then another thought seemed to cross his mind and his shoulders once again slumped as he started talking again in a despondent tone of voice.
I've got to go round for dinner on Sunday to my ma. Whats the bets its beef, tatties and butter beans. Christ I hope not! Oh man, its the way they have that squishy interior, i can't describe it they are shit. Why can't they leave me alone?
Jim's autobiography can be purchased from selected stores at a cost of one pound ninety nine pence.
