Doreen Baldock’s horrible mince-pies


“Mr Templeton, I’ve got a lovely idea for winning customers over”  said Doreen on Saturday.  “I can make some mince pies.”

“My Mum used to make mince pies”  piped PC Tucknott  “But they tasted shit !”

“Tucknott.  I will not tolerate language like that in the shop and if your Mum heard you speak like that she would clip you round the ear.”

“Sorry Tempo.”

“Don’t call me Tempo, Tucknott.” He did it on purpose when I tried to be authoritative.

“Right Doreen” I continued. “You can certainly make mince pies for the customers, but in your own time.”

This morning, Doreen plonked an Aldi shopping bag on the counter.  Contained within was a Tupperware box with 17 mince pies.

“I wanted to do 20, Mr Templeton, but Archie my cat jumped up and licked three” explained Doreen. ” I wasn’t quite sure which ones he licked, but I took three out.  Would you like to try one ?”

” I won’t right now, thank you Doreen.  I’ve only just had breakfast.”  I lied.

Doreen found a plate from the kitchen and displayed the mince pies in a formation leading to one solitary pie balancing precariously on the top.

“It seems a shame to spoil the display, Mr Templeton.  Where shall I put the plate?”

I pointed to a space near the till  and  watched  Doreen place a plastic sprig of holly on top.  Tucknott was marking up the price of driveway salt following the weekend’s sharp snap.

Charlie Duggan was our first customer of the morning.  He runs his own motor repair workshop creatively called “Duggan’s Motors” and was after some WD40. He  had run out because  Tommy his apprentice had forgotten to order any.  Charlie hates paying me retail for something he should be buying cheaper. It puts him in a foul mood and makes me laugh.

“Morning Charlie” said Doreen taking the WD4o and placing it in a brown paper bag.  “Would you like a mince-pie?  It’s my own recipe.”

Charlie looked disdainfully as the plastic holly rolled spontaneously from the plate and onto the floor by his feet.  He nodded and picked one up wondering if that really was a star shape on the top.

“Mr Templeton thought it would be lovely to thank our customers with a little mince-pie.”  Doreen did a horrible little curtsey thing.  It was bollocks and I had never said such rubbish.

Charlie looked at Doreen in bewilderment and bit into his festive fayre. He immediately  spat it on the floor.

“These are shit, Templeton !” he growled scraping his tongue with his finger nails.  “Give me free shit like that again and I will shop somewhere else.”

I sighed and pointed to Tucknott to mark up the WD40.