My Unspeakable Parents

Here are my Unspeakable Parents. They are very set in their ways and quite keen on warm milk last thing at night. Granpa Jack often talks about them despite them being Unspeakable. I'd better not tell you what he says, sometimes its untellable.

After Mum left I knew what Granpa Jack was going to say next.
'Are those wretched cats still crawling all over the back garden?'
'Yes. And Serena but she's nice, she's mine.'
'You want to get a dog, my boy, or a couple of horses-you know where you are with those animals.'
I wonder what Mum and Dad would think to horses and dogs churning up the vegetables and the grass. 'I don't think Mr Edwin Beard Budding would like it,' I say, 'he was very fond of lawns.'
'What's that?!' Granpa Jack's voice goes up until it's just a squeak, 'Have you got a lodger in all ready? My bed's hardly empty before your Unspeakable Parents let this Pear-Pudding fella in?'
'No! Granpa Jack! We don't have anyone else!' I try to explain but he's just not listening.
'Have you still got that water gun I gave you for your birthday?' he asks.
'Well, yes but...' I begin to say. I can't tell him that Mum and Dad took it away because it wasn't very nice.
'Good. We'll use it on this Pudding fella and those cats while we're about it. That'll cheer me up.' Granpa Jack snorts. 'Mind you. It's so blessed miserable here, I'll probably have died by Christmas! Mind you tell your Unspeakable Parents that! '
'It's only two more days, Granpa Jack! I could come and visit you,' I hate it when he talks about dying-he does that alot. Dad says, he'll never die but he doesn't really think about what a damp and draughty bedroom together with a diet of breadcrusts and stinky fish can do to an old person like Granpa Jack.
'NO! No, dear boy-you'll be set upon by the hounds. No, just chat to your old Granpa Jack.'
So I tell him about our visit to Santa's Tent-Grotto and he laughs and tells me I'm a tonic. 'You take my mind off The Pit of Despair, my boy. Ta-ra for now!'
I put the phone down and start to think.
Wilf