Be nice to your coalman

The first week of January this year was one of the bleakest I remember. I was lying on my rug in front of the fire, thinking 'I wonder how long my Welsh Nuts will last out? I've seen neither sight nor sound of the coalman, I wonder if he's topped up Lee yet?'

Well, I should have guessed. Lee was in a worse state than I was, and the only thing that was keeping him going was some coal-dust brickettes and an old railway sleeper.

'Lee, You've not been upsetting the coalman again have you?' I asked. 'I've been waiting all week for him to drop his nuts, and my coal cupboard is bare. only I know what you're like. You can't stand anyone with grubby hands, but you know as well as I do It's no good standing at the door holding out your nail brush and a tub of cold cream. He's selling coal not lace handkerchiefs. I know what started it mind you; You were alright with him until that day last summer when he made that comment about your new curtains, but you have to live with a bit of criticism these days. People like him aren't going to touch their forelocks for you. He's got something you want, not the other way round. So be nice to your coalman and we'll all benefit. Next time you see him in the street, beckon him over, offer him a beef tea and pat his horse a few times. And next Christmas try to think of some little gift that's a bit different; the whole world gives him soap!'

Well for once Lee took my advice and made him a beef tea, and it was amazing but overnight the coalman changed into a different person. It just goes to show how a little thought can fill your coal cupboard, helped, of course, by a beef tea.

I tell it like it is and call a spade a spade, I've always spoken my mind and taken risks. In fact I was the first person down our street to try a bounty bar.