(Thought I'd put the original rough up because I'm not so happy with the colours on this one)
(Article by Michael Holden)
Outside a café I sat near a set of identical twins, women in their mid sixties, dressed alike and gearing themselves up for a duet of synchronized complaining that, had it been a piece of music, might have been eligible for some sort of prize.
Twin 1 (surveying the mild autumn sky) “This is my kind of weather…”
Twin 2 (staring moodily at the waiting staff) “What’s wrong with these people?”
Twin 1 “Did you ask for more jam?”
Twin 2 “Yes but she didn’t understand me.”
I looked at their table. They were eating scones and had what seemed to me to be an adequate amount of jam to be going on with.
Twin 1 (stopping a waitress) “We need more jam!”
The waitress smiled and walked inside.
Twin 2 “She won’t speak English. It’s the same in Waitrose.”
Another waitress appeared and gave them more jam.
Twin 1 (looking angrily at the tiny jars) “These have the lids on!”
Twin 2 “The others had the lids off!”
Twin 1 “It’s the inconsistency…”
She stopped a waitress and held out a jar.
Twin 2 “Can you open this?”
Twin 1 “It’s no good. They can’t understand you.”
The waitress took the jam and opened it.
Twin 2 “This is different jam altogether.”
Twin 1 “It’s the wrong jam!”
They now had no scones and a surplus of jam. A problem they surmounted by spooning it directly into the mouths while looking beadily about for trouble, like human wasps.
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