Beer and a Baby?

It may surprise you to learn that a close friend of mine recently gave birth. It may surprise you even more to learn that this friend was not a woman. And the surprises just keep coming when I tell you that he did not begat, shall we say, a baby?

You see, my dear friend did in fact gave birth to a rather small Greek kebab. With a side order of salad and extra hot chilli sauce. This at least was the strange scene that confronted me when I called round his house ( as a future father to be I was actually excited ) to see the baby born just two days earlier.

Un beknown to me, and of course most of the male half of the species, many women have shall we say 'minor complications' after giving birth. Nothing life threatening of course, just the occasional ripped anus..

So anyway..I called around expecting to see Dad, Mother and baby all enjoying their first night of family bliss and what do I see? The scene shall best be described as follows:

External house, early evening..
Me: Standing outside front door (double glazed). Ringing bell. Twice.
Me: Still standing outside front door. Ringing bell. Thrice.*
Me: Notice car at front of house and light on. Well they should be in. Ooo, I'll just peek through the blinds.
Internal House, same time..
Friend: Sitting back in sofa. Large white tray in hand. Appears to be filled with brown gloss paint. Flaking paint.
Friend: Now leans forward and takes a delicious swig from a can. Of Stella. Pieces of brown stuff are picked by hand and dangled above mouth before being lowered into orifice.
External house..
Me: Drool.
Internal House..
Friend: Notices strange shape through blinds. Jumps to feet spilling some red sauce and precious Stella.
External house..
Me: Drool.
internal house..
Friend: recognizes myself. Displays a huge and cheesy grin while waving plastic tray at window.
External house..
Me: Let me in then. Twat.

I enter said house and we embrace like Mediterranean cousins, whether this is from the sense of kinship we share as fathers (to be) or from the Stella I don't discover.
'So then, is the Mrs feeding the little 'un then?'
'Er...how the fuck would I know?' replies my Stella warmed friend slurrily.
' hmm..coz your the Dad. Let me see the baby,I'm desperate to.' (this was true)
'Wha'? visiting finished two hours ago man! They wont even let Dads in ya daft bastard!'

Realisation, like a rolling sunrise, dawns.
'Aaaaah! She's still in hospital! Ohhh. Is everything you know OK?'
'OK? To fucking right its OK! Listen mate, by my reckoning I have one maybe two nights for about the next say, 16 yrs where I can eat a kebab while drinking Stella in me underpants! I tell you I've never felt better!'
'But mate, you cant get pissed. What if you get a call , what if you have to go straight to hospital?'
'Aye bollocks. I know. That's why I put me pants back on'...

I just cant make it up..
* Frankly I don't care. Its my blog so thrice goes in.