Now, I would like you to cast your
minds back to last issue’s Fantasy Drinking League©. In a certain libellous
statement by a Mr Furball, it was suggested that I and a Mr Parker did wantonly, and with
malice aforethought, congratulate a fan of the team with no name, on a recent dubious
Championship success, in direct contravention of the Geneva Convention. Firstly, I can
categorically deny doing this. Not even in the confines of the marital boudoir would I
sink to such depths. Secondly, what was Dave Parker doing in the marital boudoir anyway?
Mr Furball will be hearing from my solicitors (Pickles, Capser and
Bond) in due course
I know some of you sympathise with my predicament, but there are a
few little gestures I employ to try to preserve the harmony of the household. They may be
of some benefit to anyone finding themselves in a similar unfortunate position.
1. Endeavour to record two and a half hours of the
‘Landscape’ channel instead of Sky Sports. Dismiss your oversight with a
cursory, "Oh did I pet, sorry."
2. Wash the latest fashion accessory from the club shop on the
‘boil, irradiate, 10,000 spin’ programme of the faithful Zanussi. Your defence
should then consist of a sympathetic rolling of the eyes accompanied by, "Tsk, bloody
cats."
3. Any phone enquiries should be dealt with in one of the following
ways. It is essential to vary them as much as possible.
(a) There’s no one here by that name.
(b) Blackbush Welders? No, I think you have the wrong number.
(c) Look I’m sorry, but she doesn’t do that sort of
service any more, and I must warn you the police are monitoring these calls (this is
particularly good with persistent callers).
(d) Was it about tickets? Well they’ve all gone.
(e) Yes of course, it’s the 10.25 from Paddington, that’s
all right, my pleasure.
4. Last but not least, keep that souvenir towel by the bidet.
As Lloydy would say, "Makes me laugh."
