Aunt Mabel’s thirteenth husband Roderick owned a pub. Yeah, let that sink in for a moment. Mabel with free access to the bottles and barrels in a public house. Disaster you may think, and right you are.
Roderick, that poor sap, thought he had got himself both a cook and a barmaid. How could he know that the good looking woman he had met in Kensington Gardens that bright and sunny Sunday in May had the capacity to drink his most alcoholic patrons under the table and that as cook she was among the few who could burn even water.
Mabel’s foul mouth, terrible temper and heavy swearing made her absolutely useless as a barmaid, even Roderick’s most faithful patrons began to find their pints and booze elsewhere. And the bub grub she cooked was left untouched even by the rats in the backyard where it eventually ended.
Besides poor Roderick would usually find Mabel dead drunk among empty bottles at one of the indoor tables or knocking down pint after pint at one of the outdoor ones if the weather was good. There she would whistle at any man passing by, shouting indecent suggestions after them as they hurried down the street.
Well, you should know our Mabel well enough by now, so you’ve probably already guessed that she was heading for another divorce fast. And right enough, poor Roderick had had enough of auntie after about 6 month. Not bad for Mabel really.
I must admit I sorely miss all that free booze Mabel later told young Johnny squeezing his bum playfully pressing her ample bosom teasingly against his arm, and she added, but that Roderick fellow was a right pillock. No fun what so ever.