I was brought up in East London, which means: I love Jellied Eels, have a suit made of buttons in my wardrobe and call every woman “Treacle” on every given occasion. None is true.
I can also never remember a time that I was called “Darling” to my face and yet I was raised in a land where it is, apparently, commonplace because Barbara Windsor does it.
But now every shop assistant, counter staff and barmaid is doing it to me – which possibly means I’ve suddenly become attractive to middle-aged women who previously never noticed me before? – and is fine in the following scenario…
“That will be £5 pounds, darling.”
See, nothing wrong with that. It’s quite charming and endearing. I can cope with that.
What I don’t want to hear is this…
“Nice day, today, darling?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Have you got a BonusCard, darling?”
“No, sorry. Left it at home because it’s rubbish.”
“Are you okay with your packing, darling?”
“Yes, providing you don’t chuck it at me at speed.”
“That’ll be £5, darling.”
“There’s your change, darling.”
“Have a nice day, darling.”
JUST STOP IT WITH YOUR INSINCERITY!!!
I am not and never will be your darling because our marriage wouldn’t last five minutes if you kept on like that.
“I’m just on the toilet, darling. Will be about five minutes, darling. Ooh, better out than in, darling. Jeez, that was a bit loud, darling. Might wanna leave it five minutes, darling.”
None of that stuff that needs “darling” at the end of it. That’s not a marriage made in heaven.
What is worse is the phrase “My Lovely.”
On the bus yesterday, the lady bus driver says: “That’ll be £4.50, my lovely.”
Who says “my lovely” nowadays?
What is she, a witch?
I was gonna say; “Thanks, now I’ve crossed your palm with silver, can you get your Tarot Cards out?”