Sam Avery, comedian and former guest editor of 4Laughs, is a wannabe rock star and budding gourmet. With Father’s Day upon us Sam ponders the quickest way to his dad’s heart…
My dad has never been bothered with Father’s Day. Is any father? I love my dad but it definitely takes a back seat to Mother’s Day and even comes beneath the, quite frankly meaningless, Oxford-Cambridge Boat Race on my List of Important Events.
I used to get my old man a Yorkie and a four pack of John Smith’s, which always led to an embarrassing exchange of firm handshakes in the hallway and an agreement that; ‘It’s all a load of commercial shite this. But thanks anyway son,’ as he cracked open the first can before I could even shut the front door.
He was certainly much happier with this than when I insisted on taking him out for a ‘proper meal’ last year which, due to his obdurate eating habits, was a speedy lasagne in the mighty Wetherspoon’s round the corner.
I like Wetherspoon’s. Our local establishment banned smoking long before the 2007 ban, didn’t play music and frowned upon swearing. Despite this making it sound more like a funky library than a boozer, it still attracted the same salt-of-the-earth punters as before.
As my father and I placed our order and sat down for the worryingly short wait for our food to arrive, we looked around at the sea of characters surrounding us. I felt like I was in the bar on Star Wars. The food was plopped down onto our crumb-ridden table and I overheard one old geezer ask his mate how his cyst was. Lovely.
I had dinner with my folks last week and foolishly suggested I take him out again this year. My dad almost choked on his credit-crunch special corned beef bourguignon.
Read more Father’s Day memories
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