Today on my errands, I happened upon a pair of mobile drape ladies, one of the most terrifying archetypes in human existence.
Mobile drape ladies are a pair of ladies that travel in a Spotlight-branded van. They park up outside a house during daylight hours and their mission is to measure your window fixtures and frames, then go away and sew the custom-made drapes.
On the surface, it’s pretty innocuous. What could go wrong?
They enter your house. They are no-nonsense women who survived the ’50s ’60s, ’70s, ’80s, ’90s and most importantly, now. They are called Margaret and Pat. Margaret has a plume of coloured bright red spiky hair which she gets set once a week by her daughter, Sandra.
Sandra has three or four small dogs or guinea pigs, or perhaps they are actually cats.
Meanwhile, back on the mean streets, Marg and Pat are whipping out the tape measures and tut-tutting at the net curtains.
Who hung these? They’re bloody terrible Marg.
Incensed, she rips down the set and swishes it into a ball, all the while making a series of huffing sounds.
Soon, they break into easy banter. Marg is doing a fish pie for tea tonight, and Pat is going to watch Married At First Sight Australia. Husband Don is off at the Dennis Marsh gig.
Pat’s son is getting remarried. Pat tells Marg she doesn’t trust his new bride.
She’s older than him by two years. Has three children. From a previous de facto. They weren’t married. Those poor children. (more audible huffing and general resentment.)
They’re almost done. The windows will require a robust, lined drape made with the kind of precision only seen elsewhere in either brain surgery or microblading.
The ladies board the drape-bus and give it a good rev, before heading back to drape-base.
Sure, enough, within possibly a nano-second, the drapes are ready and dispatched. One time Marg made up a pair blindfolded, to the delight of her colleagues.
If you ever want to truly terrify a mortal enemy, dispatch a pair of mobile drape ladies immediately.