The Milk Bottles Are On Me

Oscar and Tilly are discussing something or other in their usual random fashion.

I have tuned out by this time, so I’m not really listening to the subject of their conversation.

My ears prick up though, when I hear Oscar say:

‘I think we should just make a Molotov cocktail and throw it in there. That will sort them out.’

I pause, fleetingly. I am impressed by the fact that he knows what a Molotov cocktail is – and also slightly alarmed. Should I inform the school?

I tune back in just as Tilly says scornfully.

‘It’s not a Molotov cocktail you idiot. It’s a Motlob cocktail.’

I snort.

And say…

‘It is not a Motlob cocktail. It is a Molotov cocktail…

You idiot.’

We all look at the ground.

Oscar is the first to laugh.

‘Yeah. You idiot!’

I am telling this to my mum, while we are having a cup of tea. We laugh about it.

A few minutes later mum says thoughtfully;

‘Mind you. You’d be hard pushed to make Molotov cocktails these days, what with milk bottles being plastic and all.’

I say:

‘We’d be alright. We’ve still got a Kirby and West milk float and proper glass bottles down our way.’

Mum perks up.

‘Revolution starts round yours then? About fiveish?’

Sorted.

Bring your own balaclavas.

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