Walk Like an Egyptian
by Brian Morrison
Genre: Humour
Swearwords: None.
Description: A story transcribed from an ancient Egyptian scroll. It tells of a chance meeting between two old friends.
_____________________________________________________________________
SCENE: It is the swinging sixties. 1967 to be exact . . . BC.
Big Alex Cheesecheops just happens to run into his old mucker, Hamet (Harry) Ramsden.
CHEESECHEOPS: Well look who it is! Hamet Ramsden. How’s it gaun’ big chap?
HAMET: Aye no’ bad, big Cheesie. Whit huv ye been up tae?
CHEESECHEOPS: Ah wiz just in visitin the local Artisan. Ah’m getting ma fotie done. Jist sketches the noo.
HAMET: Yer fotie? Is this fur yer big tomb?
CHEESECHEOPS: Aye. Its gaunnie be brill, by the way. This guy worked fur Grand Design. It’s basically foties o’ me, the missus an’ the weans right along the tomb entrance. And get this . . . it will be on both sides AND the ceiling tae. It’s gaunnie look well smart. It will depict stories aboot ma life in general. He’s done me a crackin deal, by the way. He is writin’ in a’ the hieroglyphics fur hee haw.
HAMET: Spot on mate! Ah’ll maybe get his number aff ye. Is he a guid drawer?
CHEESECHEOPS: No’ bad mate. It’s a’ done in profiles though. Jist the same as ye see in a’ the rest o’ the tombs aroon here. There is wan profile o’ me wi’ a plate full o’ grapes. Then there’s anither wan o’ me wi’ a leather whip, skelpin’ a big ox across the erse. Ye know the king o’ thing!
HAMET: Cool! Nae full frontals?
CHEESECHEOPS: Naw – Ah don’t think that any o’ oor Artisans huv mastered that pose yet. Jist as well eh? Me wi’ ma sticky-oot ears.
HAMET: Well Ah’m glad that YOU said that an’ no’ me! . . . Hey Cheesie – Ah meant tae ask ye – are you still sniffin’ aboot that Cleopatra’s wee sister?
CHEESECHEOPS: Aw naw, no’ anymore, mate. No’ since Ah found oot that she gave big Jazza Horeb a dose o’ the Scarabs!
HAMET: The Scarabs? Oooh nastie! Did big Jazza go tae the physician?
CHEESECHEOPS: Aye but he ran a mile when he found oot whit the treatment wiz fur the problem.
HAMET: The treatment? Don’t tell me it wiz the . . .
CHEESECHEOPS: Aye – the old ‘Metal hook up yer nose, an’ pullin’ yer brains through yer nostrils’ sketch!
HAMET: Scary stuff man! That is their answer tae every ailment.
CHEESIECHEOPS: Ah know! Tell me about it! A’ they doctors ur the same. “Oh doctor, Ah’ve got this wee rash.” “Aw right son – jist sit still tae Ah push this hook up yer nose and huv a wee tug at yer brains.” Or – “Oh doctor, Ah’m havin’ trouble wi’ ingrown toenails.” “Nae bother mate – Ah’ll jist pull yer brains though yer nostrils wi’ this big meat hook. That’ll sort it!”
HAMET: Aye – nae imagination.
CHEESECHEOPS: Yer right there. It gets on ma nefertitties, so it does!
HAMET: Talkin’ aboot toenails . . . How is yer collection o’ toenail clippins doin’?
CHEESECHEOPS: Ma toenail collection? Oh it’s comin’ on a treat, big man! Ah’ve got enough clippins’ noo tae fill three solid gold caskets. They ur getting’ buried wi’ me in my fancy new tomb when Ah pop ma clogs. Ah’m really proud o’ that collection.
HAMET: So ye should be, big chap! Where ur ye storin’ them meanwhile?
CHEESECHEOPS: In wan o’ they jaggy buildings. Ye know the wans that look like a big triangle!
HAMET: Aw – the big pyramids up at the Forge shoppin’ centre? They are proper smart, by the way! Huv they came up wi’ a name fur them yet?
CHEESECHEOPS: Aye – they ur namin’ them efter some bloke, Ah think.
HAMET: Aw right enough! Come tae think o’ it – Ah read in the Daily Papyrus that they ur tae be called ‘The Pyramids o’ the some bloke’ . . or was it ‘The Pyramids o’ geezer’?
Swearwords: None.
Description: A story transcribed from an ancient Egyptian scroll. It tells of a chance meeting between two old friends.
_____________________________________________________________________
SCENE: It is the swinging sixties. 1967 to be exact . . . BC.
Big Alex Cheesecheops just happens to run into his old mucker, Hamet (Harry) Ramsden.
CHEESECHEOPS: Well look who it is! Hamet Ramsden. How’s it gaun’ big chap?
HAMET: Aye no’ bad, big Cheesie. Whit huv ye been up tae?
CHEESECHEOPS: Ah wiz just in visitin the local Artisan. Ah’m getting ma fotie done. Jist sketches the noo.
HAMET: Yer fotie? Is this fur yer big tomb?
CHEESECHEOPS: Aye. Its gaunnie be brill, by the way. This guy worked fur Grand Design. It’s basically foties o’ me, the missus an’ the weans right along the tomb entrance. And get this . . . it will be on both sides AND the ceiling tae. It’s gaunnie look well smart. It will depict stories aboot ma life in general. He’s done me a crackin deal, by the way. He is writin’ in a’ the hieroglyphics fur hee haw.
HAMET: Spot on mate! Ah’ll maybe get his number aff ye. Is he a guid drawer?
CHEESECHEOPS: No’ bad mate. It’s a’ done in profiles though. Jist the same as ye see in a’ the rest o’ the tombs aroon here. There is wan profile o’ me wi’ a plate full o’ grapes. Then there’s anither wan o’ me wi’ a leather whip, skelpin’ a big ox across the erse. Ye know the king o’ thing!
HAMET: Cool! Nae full frontals?
CHEESECHEOPS: Naw – Ah don’t think that any o’ oor Artisans huv mastered that pose yet. Jist as well eh? Me wi’ ma sticky-oot ears.
HAMET: Well Ah’m glad that YOU said that an’ no’ me! . . . Hey Cheesie – Ah meant tae ask ye – are you still sniffin’ aboot that Cleopatra’s wee sister?
CHEESECHEOPS: Aw naw, no’ anymore, mate. No’ since Ah found oot that she gave big Jazza Horeb a dose o’ the Scarabs!
HAMET: The Scarabs? Oooh nastie! Did big Jazza go tae the physician?
CHEESECHEOPS: Aye but he ran a mile when he found oot whit the treatment wiz fur the problem.
HAMET: The treatment? Don’t tell me it wiz the . . .
CHEESECHEOPS: Aye – the old ‘Metal hook up yer nose, an’ pullin’ yer brains through yer nostrils’ sketch!
HAMET: Scary stuff man! That is their answer tae every ailment.
CHEESIECHEOPS: Ah know! Tell me about it! A’ they doctors ur the same. “Oh doctor, Ah’ve got this wee rash.” “Aw right son – jist sit still tae Ah push this hook up yer nose and huv a wee tug at yer brains.” Or – “Oh doctor, Ah’m havin’ trouble wi’ ingrown toenails.” “Nae bother mate – Ah’ll jist pull yer brains though yer nostrils wi’ this big meat hook. That’ll sort it!”
HAMET: Aye – nae imagination.
CHEESECHEOPS: Yer right there. It gets on ma nefertitties, so it does!
HAMET: Talkin’ aboot toenails . . . How is yer collection o’ toenail clippins doin’?
CHEESECHEOPS: Ma toenail collection? Oh it’s comin’ on a treat, big man! Ah’ve got enough clippins’ noo tae fill three solid gold caskets. They ur getting’ buried wi’ me in my fancy new tomb when Ah pop ma clogs. Ah’m really proud o’ that collection.
HAMET: So ye should be, big chap! Where ur ye storin’ them meanwhile?
CHEESECHEOPS: In wan o’ they jaggy buildings. Ye know the wans that look like a big triangle!
HAMET: Aw – the big pyramids up at the Forge shoppin’ centre? They are proper smart, by the way! Huv they came up wi’ a name fur them yet?
CHEESECHEOPS: Aye – they ur namin’ them efter some bloke, Ah think.
HAMET: Aw right enough! Come tae think o’ it – Ah read in the Daily Papyrus that they ur tae be called ‘The Pyramids o’ the some bloke’ . . or was it ‘The Pyramids o’ geezer’?
About the Author
Born in Saltcoats, Brian Morrison has a day job at the Hunterston Power Station. But in his other life he is well known as a caricaturist and comedy sketch writer. More recently, he has become a novelist and a writer of children's stories. His dark comedy, Blister, is available on Amazon.