Birthing Ward

They had wheeled my wife in to the birthing ward. I was told that I would be called when the time was right.
There was one other man in the waiting room. He was huge black gent, about six feet, five inches with a build borrowed from the ‘Brick Shit-House’ design. I thought – at first – that he was standing on a chair.
“Hi!” I said
“Grrrr!” He replied
“Nerve-wrecking, isn’t it?”
“Grrrr!” He replied
“First one, is it?” I tried.
He turned, looked at me and nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Me too!” Progress!
Maybe He doesn’t speak very good English, I thought. I’ll speak slower.
“Are – you – from - here?” – Nothing!
I hunted in the suitcase that we had brought with us and pulled out a bag of fruit.
“Would – you – like – banana? I - suppose - you - get - lots -of - them – where – you – come – from!” He looked at me; I smiled.
He came towards me – not smiling. He looked at me as if I were the mongrel next door that had just shagged his prize pedigree poodle.
He lowered his head – about two feet – so that his face was level with mine.
“Yes, it’s my first child! Yes, it’s nerve wrecking! Yes, I’m from here; East Ham to be precise. No, I don’t want a banana. And finally, No! We don’t have lots of them where I come from i.e. East Ham, because the weather is too fucking cold to grow them. Furthermore; if you persist in annoying me, I will take that bunch that you are holding and shove them, one at a time – unpeeled – up your arse! Do I make myself clear or would you like me to speak very slowly and maybe provide a demonstration?” He whispered fiercely.
I gulped; the cheeks of my arse tensing; on auto-pilot.
“Yes, very clear!” I stammered.
“Good! I would like very much, not to see you again; ever!
“I think that would probably be best.” I agreed.

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The midwife came to the door, pointed a finger and with a Sideways flick of her head, Indicated that I should follow. I stood, knees knocking.
“Wear one of those and those!” The midwife admonished pointing to a green garment and some blue plastic…things! The green garment was all Arms and strings. I shrugged it on, like I would a dressing gown
“’Other way around! The open side goes to the back!” Mrs. Hitler Scorned, as she passed me once again.
I had the distinct feeling that I was definitely surplus to requirements. I pushed my arms in, wrapped the strings around me and tied it in a nice neat bow.
I pulled one of the blue ‘things’ out of the box on the floor. It looked like something that the wife wore, to protect her curls in the shower.
‘It must be to stop my hair falling onto the new born and choking him or her before they got a chance to live’, I surmised. With that, I attempted to pull it over my head. God it was tight! The elastic cut into my skin and I felt my circulation impeded. She better have this child soon or it would end up with a brain-damaged father. The skin was pulled so far back on my forehead that thought my eyes would fall out. Mind you the improvement in Peripheral vision was quite astounding!
I stood for a moment, looking around me - without moving my head. The Mid-wife from hell returned and stood observing me.
“I feel like a surgeon from E.R.”, I said with my best smile in place.
“You look like a post-lobotomy patient!”
“Hey?”
“The covering, which you have somehow managed to get over your head; you should be wearing two of them!”
“Two? I just about managed to get this one on!” I stuttered.
“OVER YOUR SHOES!” she sneered.
FUCK! “God, I feel like an idiot!” I grinned stupidly – red faced.
“Well, if the cap fits, as they say!” replied the little sister of no mercy.
I whipped the ‘cap’ off and slipped it over my shoe, pulled a second from the box and repeated the act.
“Follow me!” commanded the Ogre.
She walked through a door marked ‘Birthing ward’. I nervously trotted behind.
“Your wife is in a bed on the right!”
“Arghhh! Hellllllp!” Wailed a voice from behind the screen to my right.
“Coming!” I answered.
“ERM…” said the midwife, pointing her finger at me.
“Don’t say a word!” I warned as I Turned and ran towards the cry for help.
I plunged through the curtains shouting;
“I’m here darling….FUCK! Jesus! What have they done to you? NURSE! COME QUICK, SOMETHING'S WRONG; HER LEGS HAVE GONE BLACK!”
Just then, a head rose up and peeped over the mountainous maternity bump.
ARGHHH!
“Ooo de fuck is you? Is you de doctor? Me ‘usband is in de wetting room; go Tell him to get hisself in ‘ere right now!” said the black apparition in an accent that came straight from the ‘Lilt’ add.
She had eyes like the guy in the ‘James Bond film that swallowed the bullet and filled up with gas before exploding. This was definitely the pre explosion version - but only just!
“Erm…I am actually with another woman…”
“Ohhh! It’s coming now”, she squealed
“What? No! You only think it is” I countered in my best Dr. Kildare voice.
“Arghhh! Do something!”
“SHIT!” I ran around to the side of the bed and caught hold of her hand.
“Blow! Puff! Oh shit, BREATHE! NURSE! NURSE!
“I can’t breeeth, me top is too tight. Loosen it, loosen it!”
“Huh? Oh, Ok…right!” I grabbed the bow at the top of her gown and pulled. The top flew open like an erupting volcano and out fell two of the biggest breasts I have ever seen.
“Oh, dats better now!” said the mammary queen. “I tink someting is comin now…quick doc ‘ave a look. Is someting comin?”
“WHAT? NO! I mean, there is no need; there is nothing there! It’s probably wind, you know! What did you eat today?”
“What did I eat? What kind of a doctor are you anyways?
“Ah, well, funny you should ask…”
“OHHHH! Quick, look! Look! I can feel it!”
“Oh, for fucks’ sake!” I ran to the end of the bed and pulled up the sheet, bent down and stared at the cavern that was gaping before me.

It was while in this – what you could loosely call ‘compromising position’ – that I heard the voice behind me.
“Is everything alright?”
“Seems to be!” I said voice quivering. I knew that voice. I was going to ask it to say ‘bananas’ just to be sure but it seemed irrelevant. I knew in that instant that I was fucked!
I straightened up and turned around. There in front of me, blocking the light from the window behind him was ‘Kunta Kinte’ from the waiting room.
“What you doing, with your head up my wife’s pussy?” he enquired incredulously.
“Well, actually I was just having a look to see if anything was coming because she asked me too, after I had opened her top and let her breasts out because she was calling for help and said she wanted help coming, I mean, ‘it’ coming, her pussy; the baby or whatever!” I spurted out; shitting myself.
“I axed the doctor to help me!” his wife somewhat unhelpfully put in.
“He is no doctor, you stupid woman; he is a lunatic who thinks we came on the last banana boat, leaving the jungle” he corrected.
“Ah, well, you see, I never actually said I was a doc…..”

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That was the last thing I remember for the next twenty four hours.
I missed the birth of my son; mind you I only just missed the birth of the ‘Kunta Kinte’junior.
The police did visit the hospital the next day, where both my wife and I were now patients. They asked me if I wanted to press charges for ‘Grievous Bodily Harm but warned that counter charges would immediately be brought of:
(1) Molestation of a, nine and one half months pregnant, woman
(2) Impersonating a doctor - in order to gain carnal knowledge
(3) Racism
(4) Sexual perversion
I declined to press charges.
My wife found it hard to talk to me for about 3 months – without pissing in her maternity drawers.
The red line left by the shoe protector on my forehead was the cause of much hilarity at parties and will remain so until I die.
At the birth of any subsequent children, I fully intend to be right in the thick of the action; DOWN IN MY LOCAL PUB!