BOB WILD OIKUS
Quid pro
quo
A Fine Christmas Present
A Well-travelled Wine
Hitting the Bottle
There Is No Such Thing
As a Free Ride
The Terrorist Threat
Ernie and the Art of Roofing
Dead Lucky
Trouble Brewing
Charity Ends at Home
Rich Droppings
Danegeld
Life's a Lottery
Narrowing the Gap
Each week the secretive, sybaritic miser surreptitiously tore a coupon from one of his wife’s discarded newspapers. Annually he took his wife for a free off-season weekend break. His wife, a penniless spendthrift, bought him a £26 birthday bottle of Chassagne Montrachet. The miser marvelled at his wife’s thrift adding “1989 at £52 is better value” His wife marvelled at the miser’s generosity adding “a longer holiday would have been nicer.” On their return the miser started tearing coupons from two of his wife’s newspapers. Instead of 50Ps his wife began taking £1 coins from the loose change in the sleeping miser’s trouser pocket.
Our Ernie is a "genius": can't tie his shoelaces, knot his tie or brush his teeth, but speaks eighteen languages; plays the piano by ear and sings opera like an Italian. His truly exceptional talent though is not spending money. Like Scrooge, Ernie never buys presents. Surprisingly, last Christmas-time, he suggested getting me a book. Christmas came: no book appeared. January arrived: Ernie came. "I've got the book for you". I thanked him profusely and flicked it open. "Hey, this is a library book!" "Yes, I've finished it. It's overdue. Take it back for me when you've read it".
Ernie 'phoned me saying the people he usually spent Christmas with had gone away this year. Reluctantly I invited him to Christmas dinner. He arrived with a scuffy-labelled half-bottle of Retsina. I put it on one side. He downed a third of a bottle of Meursault with the crab; the best part of a bottle of Margaux with the turkey and with the pudding made short work of my 30 yrs old port. I gave him coffee but hid the Drambuie. Boxing Day he 'phoned saying: "As we didn't drink the Retsina could I have it back".
Christmas Eve: Ernie 'phoned. No food: the shops had shut early. Reluctantly I invited him to Christmas dinner. A teetotaller he arrived with a half-bottle of Retsina! I put it next to the breathing bottle of Margaux. "Have some cordial; peanuts in the bowl". I went to work in the kitchen. Later, Ernie came in wanting water. "Those peanuts made me thirsty. I'm not keen on orange juice. I've finished that bottle of blackcurrant cordial. Did you put something in it, my heads spinning?" We went into the dining-room. It was then that the bottle hit him.
There Is No Such Thing As a Free Ride
Ernie, the free-loader, caught his four-day £1 bargain Ryan Air flight to Venice. After three days free meals, free accommodation and sight-seeing the parents of a claimed acquaintance rumbled him. He rejected £8 a night YMCA accommodation; instead bought a single £1 ticket on the all-night Vaporetto. He slept "unnoticed" while the boat circuited The Lagoon. At the airport Ernie congratulated himself: four days in Venice for £2! Searching his wallet for his flight ticket he discovered £100 missing. In its place he found a £100 penalty fine-“Receipt for Fare Evasion On A Vaporetto"..
Ernie used payouts from de-mutualised Building Society speculations to fund bargain trips abroad. Provisioned with non-perishable foods: cheese; biscuits; spare underpants; shirt, he went free-loading on foreign friends. In Italy, needing lira, he went to Banco Milano, Mussolini's masterpiece, pressed the bell, entered the security vestibule. Alarm bells rang. Terrorist procedures activated. A computer voice said: "Put unzipped grip through flap. Lie prone on floor, limbs outspread". The bag entered the scanner. Lights flashed. Clerks hid behind desks. A robot "dog" sniffed the bag: rummaged around. Its probe emerged holding up... one of Ernie's six tins of corned beef..
Ernie's gutter dripped, his roof leaked. He'd have to spend money. Two white-van men offered to fix it for £4,000. "Very dangerous, you could have an accident". Intimidated, Ernie consented: "just the guttering". The men ripped the roof off and demanded "cash up front". They drove Ernie, protesting, to the bank: waited outside. Panicked and terrified Ernie blabbed. The Bank Manager dialled 999. The men scarpered. The police drove Ernie home; arrested the men on the roof gathering their gear: charged them with 19 similar offences. The men got 3 years. "Victim Support" were informed. Ernie got a free roof..
On a tram in Amsterdam two Ethnics clamped a chloroform pad over Ernie's face. He awoke in hospital minus passport, money, cheque-book, credit card. Dutch police arrested two druggies; charged them with similar offences. A detective visited England, interviewed Ernie. Ernie put him up, got his address. The trial revealed Ernie's identity and credit card had been used in a money laundering scam: a coffin bought; a bogus funeral held — Ernie was officially dead, his name on a headstone. The compensation award funded many more trips to Amsterdam. Ernie visited his grave, left grateful flowers. The detective regretted accepting Ernie's hospitality.
Ernie heard teabags make good compost. He saved and buried them in his borders with the zeal of a thrifty squirrel. When cost-cutting management at work stopped the tea-breaks, the disgruntled staff bought a kettle, brewed and drank tea in the toilets. Ernie wouldn't subscribe; drank water. Main-chancing, he made frequent trips to the toilets to collect the teabags from the waste-bins. His colleagues spotted this behaviour and attributed it to meanness. Ernie, of course, saw matters differently: "Saving the planet!" Mind you, at home, he invariably recycled the bags in the teapot before planting them in the borders.
Ernie needed shoes: his soles flip-flopped open showing rows of shark-like teeth. On the "nearly new" charity shop shelf, shoes cost £2. Avoiding the Assistant Ernie rummaged the "Not for Sale" box destined for Africa: swapped his own shoes for a pair of Brogues. Tried on jackets, found one that fitted, offered the Assistant 50p. and his own jacket in exchange. "Too far gone but you look like someone we're trying to help: take it. Put yours in the rag-box: the van's due". Back home Ernie remembered he'd left a fiver in his old jacket top pocket.
Ernie was too mean to buy garden fertilizer. The tea-bags he took from work and planted in the borders weren't doing much good. Ernie heard that horses ridden in the park provided rich droppings. Armed with a big plastic bag and trowel he went collecting: "for the roses". The bag being heavy he boarded a bus. Passengers held their noses; complained. The driver ordered him off the bus. In his haste to comply Ernie left the bag behind. He walked home cursing his misfortune. At the stop near his house he found the bag dumped at the bus-stop.
Thrifty Ernie collected horse droppings in the park. A Great Dane bounded up, plonked pancake paws on his shoulders. Petrified, Ernie averted his face. The dog licked him: sniffed his clothing. The owner dragged it off. Ernie opened his eyes. Man and dog had gone: so had Ernie's wallet. The police suggested he'd dropped it or left it at home. "Stolen", Ernie insisted. "I suppose you think the dog did it", laughed plod. "The man", said Ernie, unamused. At home Ernie found the wallet behind the front door. A note from the man said the dog had "stolen" it.
I did Ernie a favour: pointed his house-walls, reglazed windows, replaced locks. Tile materials cost £200. Ernie wouldn't pay: "Money's all tied up in Premium Bonds". He offered to buy me £200 - worth of Bonds from his next winnings. I reluctantly agreed. At the month-end Ernie handed me a list of 200 numbers -"It's the same as buying them - you could win a fortune!" Four years elapsed: I didn't win. Ernie boasted a 20% annual return from his own numbers. I suggested he buy back mine. The following week "my" numbers came up: £2000. Ernie gave me the £200.
Single parent Charlene sat on the sofa in her condemned council flat, idly watching The Queen's Speech on TV. Her grizzling baby sat and shat in her lap. Her "Ex", a refuse collector, on strike against wage- cuts couldn't pay the child support. The bejewelled, Ermine-draped Queen, surrounded by impervious red-robed Lords, proclaimed her Prime Minister's intention to "narrow the gap between rich and poor". Speech over, The Queen re-read her annual public income cheque whilst Charlene re-read her TV licence prosecution summons. The Queen popped her £8-million cheque into her purse. Charlene popped her head into the gas oven.