This is a great story and its totally true.
Peter Kay says that when you are a kid you have loads of Aunties and Uncles, your Uncle Bob because he once borrowed your dads orbital sander and your Aunty Mary because your mum goes to weight watchers with her. I thought it was a witnoid thing, or maybe a north of England thing, or even a 70's thing.
Uncle Malcolm was (is) an elder in my childhood congregation, a little wiry bloke in a flat cap and painters overalls. Lived in a council house opposite my nana's with the ample Aunty Jean, two large shiftless sons and lots of budgies. We used to meet at their house for field service, and had make sure the free range budgies didnt make a break for it or crap on our literature. Apart from Uncle Malcolm they were all a sandwich short of a picnic, and hence as the two large sons grew into even larger men, and found it impossible to hold down jobs, they became permanent occupants of the front room with the free range birds. Aunty Jean used to just feed them all and muck out as and when. They great long legs reached out across the room facing the telly which has Granstand on all the time and Leeds United permanently playing (although as we all know Grandstand was only on at Saturday. Such is the nature of my memory).
Aunty Jean had all sorts of things wrong with her, but Uncle Malcolm wouldnt let her go to the hospital to get checked, because truth be known he was scared of the doctors, despite being an elder of long standing. So on she plodded year after year, her varicose veins like a releif map of the bl00dy congo. They didnt have a car, cos nobody did in them days. If anyone did have a car and they gave her a lift it was a military manouvre getting her in and out of the passenger seat, but it was worth it to see a flash of her knickers, especially if it was a few days since you'd had your last dose at the Tuesday Group.
They went on a coach holiday one year to Torquay, after they had grown old and I had grown up. They were fixture and fitting at the KH. Nothing could happen to them, they were invincible. Except on this holiday, Aunty Jean choked on a sausage and died.
I can feel the groundswell of international sypmathy for our new collective Aunty Jean. We were all convinced she was going to die of thrombosis, or diabetes, heart failure or something more dignified. But no that old chippolata finished her off. Please forgive my for this, but every time I think of Aunty Jean versus the sausage...well... It makes me laugh.
Uncle Malcolm naturally was diatraight. Being close to 70 he no doubt was wondering who would muck out the budgies now, and if he had enough strength to lift up those two pairs of long legs to vacuum underneath them once a week? And where did food come from? And why did the clothes not appear clean in the drawers anymore after he had dropped them on the floor dirty? He was in a world of hurt.
But old Uncle Malcolm SOON came up with a plan.
He systematically proposed to every single sister in the congregation over the age of 50. He started with Adrians mum because she owned her house. My mum came second, she was better looking, but didnt own her own house. Mum and dad had got one of those Armageddon mortgages - you pay something off every month, but so little that you always owe more than you borrowed - but it doesnt matter because Armageddon is coming! So after 20 years mum still owed 10k on a 4k mortgage. Anyway she said no to Malcolm, and then tried to kill herself because, trust me, being asked out by Malcolm is not the thing to convince yourself you are still attractive.
He soon realised he was batting a bit out of his league, after all these spring chickens were 20 years younger than him. So he had to broaden the range a bit. He eventually worked his way up to Edna Poe. Edna is NOT an Aunty because she didnt become a witnoid until after i grew up. Real Aunties existed from before time started. Edna was 20 years older than Uncle Malcolm, but she was LOADED.
Malcolm hit the jackpot! Edna said yes. He was out of that council house quicker than a dog down a rat hole. Now he lives 6 months of the year in Australia!!!! Uncle Malcolm!!!! I know. I cant believe it either.
For all we know those two big lads are still watching Leeds United on Grandstand with their big legs stretched out towards the telly, covered in bird shit wondering when their mum is going to bring them a fried egg sandwich.