Cheese and Wine Anyone?

The other day, whilst at Brendas' place, she gave me an unwanted gift; a pot of stilton.

I turned it into a sandwich each for MeWally and me.

It's unpromising looking stuff with an intense flavour caused by the blue mould that ripples through it.

As we ate our stilton and tomato butties  I recounted a tale Brenda had shared with me about her partner - who shall remain nameless.....

A few days ago, they had spent a pleasant afternoon in their local (pub). On the way home, her partner had decided to buy a nice bottle of wine to share when they ate their evening meal. 

So far, so normal.

When they got to their front door, Brenda went to the back of the house to fetch the door key, which she had secreted somewhere. She left her portly partner, bottle in hand, waiting patiently at the front door. When Brenda finally returned to him (it's a big house and she has very short legs) he was lying, flat on his face in their, very beautiful, Gothic, Edwardian porch. 

WORSE THAN THAT.....

There was blood spilling, profusely, from a wound somewhere around his stomach region. Her gut did a barrel roll, she thought she was going to be sick. She could not rip her eyes away from that oozing blood as it slowly flowed out from under her unusually silent and still man.

Then she noticed how this blood was almost transparent. How she could see through the blood to the small black and white floor tiles below. And then she stopped holding her breath and breathed in. She was immediately assailed by the pungent aroma of booze.

Her partner groaned, attempted to look up at her and said, "Please, don't just stand there, help me up." He's a very polite man.

There wasn't a mark on him. He had tripped as he walked up the step to stand in the porch and the bottle of wine had smashed as he fell onto it.

There must be a moral to this story, 

but they're my friends, 

so,

I couldn't possibly comment.

: )