THE REAL GLENDA
Hello and welcome.
I am Betty Prentiss, owner of Prentiss Confectioners, Arthur Street, Bath, England. It is one of the oldest confectionary shops in Bath and has a reputation which is unrivalled in the West Country.
I have been given access to this blog thanks to Glenda's soon to be former husband Clive, who has told me who the "real" Glenda is.
I must say, I wasn't surprised.
She is a dishonest, duplicitous person who ran away to America, leaving him in a state of despair. Fortunately, he has found happiness with another employee at the sweet shop, Edith Potter. However, what Glenda did to him is despicable.
I was not surprised at her behaviour. She always struck me as a dishonest and duplicitous person.
In the mid 1980's she took A MONTH off work to follow the pop group Tears For Fear on a tour of ballrooms. Now THAT is what I call irresponsible behaviour.
She also used to steal menthol lozenges from the shop, on a weekly basis, and not pay for them. In all, I may have lost as much as thirty pounds' worth of menthol lozenges.
In this blog, over the coming months, I hope to put you right about the REAL Glenda and tell you about some of her scheming ways.
The world has to be told and I have a duty.
Thank you for listening.
Yours ever,
MRS BETTY PRENTISS
posted by glenda @ Tuesday, January 16, 2007
15 Comments:
You go for it Mrs Betty Prentiss - I'm a sucker (ooh lozenges! pardon the pun!) for putting right any injustice which is why I wanted the fans to know the real truth about that slapper Eileen Burke. We should listen to old people more. If it wasn't for the war none of us would be here isn't that right Mrs P? Happy sucking yours Miss R Mother.
Thank you for your positive comments Miss Mother. I have taken the reigns here and feel I am on a mission to expose corruption in the world. As a devout Christian, it is my right to point out the work of the Devil, even if it is only here in Bath.
I think you've got some explaining to do Mrs Prentiss - are you the same Mrs Prentiss from Arthur Street who used to sell us the sweets from the "special" jar at 2 bob a pop back in the 60s? I only got out of the hospital last Easter and I still wake up dreaming of giant fucking chickens.
Ooh, I remember you. You used to be such a little rascal. I'm puzzled as to what you mean by the "special" jar. Do you mean gobstoppers? You used to hang around with some rough looking long haired older boys and I think they influenced you in a bad way.
That's probably where you learnt the bad language. Please try not to swear.
Clear off Barry! Have you nothing to do with your time now that you've retired from football commentating?! No, I don't suppose you have, hah hah hah!
I'm still getting all the top BBC gigs you know. FA Cup Final, World Cup Final, the lot. Still, I was always the top dog and you were always second choice. People prefer my enthusiasm and encyclopaedic knowledge of the game to your prissy ex-public school boy whining don't they? Oh yes indeed!
I'm surprised you can't remember Mrs Prentiss, have you been at the Angel Dust again?
I'm not that Barry Davies, Motty. But I did get to know a couple of Arsenal players through a mutual acquaintance. Well, we all knew him but we didn't really know his name if you get my drift.
I hope you're not inferring anything here Barry. I've never met you in my life and besides, those days are behind me now.
Now, I just like to write poetry to express myself.
Here is a poem:
In the days of dark despair
When it seems no cne does care
An inner light will guide us
Show the beauty inside us
And lead us to happiness
If only we dare.
Nice poem, Donk but you don't think I called myself Barry Davies back then, did you?
Oh Tony, that is a beautiful poem. It reminds me of the work of one of my favourite poets, Patience Strong. If you drop me an e-mail, I will gladly hand the reigns of this blog over to you for the next post, if you want to write some more poetry.
Ooh I must say it's lovely to see some sporting chums on here. Mrs Betty Prentiss I ashamed to tell you that I stole some of those gobstoppers from your shop as a child, soaked them in PCP and then sold them to smaller children at my local primary school. I am now a professional question-asker on a popular sports programme for the BBC. Please don't tell anyone. It's something I bitterly regret and am glad that no one seems to have suffered too much.
PS: if you ever want any studio audience tickets or Last Of the Summer Wine merchandise for your shop then please do not hesitate to get in touch.
Yours
Sue
Oh - Sue Barker! Weren't you a friend of Cliff Richard? I was so disappointed when you two didn't get married. My son Keith told me "of course they won't get married - she's only his beard, you know!" To this day I don't know what that means. He always speaks in riddles.
I'm surprised that those children ate the sweets. TCP has a very strong smell although it's good for sore throats. They must have tasted like cough drops!
I'll drop you an e-mail about the Last Of The Summer Wine tickets. I've been a great fan of that show since the first series in 1947. There isn't enough "gentle" comedy on the television these days. It's all people shouting and jumping about. What's that thing where a woman breastfeeds a grown man? Absolutely disgusting. The country has gone to the dogs if you ask me.
The country IS full of dogs if you ask me - I mean - who does Vanessa Feltz think she is?
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Vanessa up for a possible munter of the week award then?
Betty - another Betty! What is a munter when it's at home?
The "Rock And Roll" Mother - I agree. The way Vanessa Feltz carries on with men young enough to be her son makes my blood boil. When I was her age I was a grandmother and would never have dreamed of wearing those low cut dresses or staying out at ballrooms until three in the morning. I wouldn't have had the time anyway - I worked in the sweetshop seven days a week as well as doing church fundraising and voluntary work for Meals On Wheels.
They don't know they're born these days.
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