'I've got a new badge,' crowed Geoffrey as he flew through the hole in the kitchen wall and landed on his usual perch on the end of the mantlepiece.
'Really,' I replied, staring out of the window in my usual morose manner, while puffing on my electronic pipe and adjusting my belt inwards - yes, INwards - by yet another notch.
'Don't you want to see?' he badgered.
'No.'
'Why not? It's lovely and shiny.'
'Oh do shut up. I'm not interested in seeing anything shiny if it isn't baccy or food.'
'I know you'll like it. It's just up your alley,' he continued doggedly, 'You'll never guess what it's for - you're completely foxed, aren't you?'
'No, I'm not foxed as you put it. I'm never foxed. I don't DO foxed,' I said standing up, and flexing my plantar, 'Cattiness isn't in my nature as a general rule, but I've had more than enough of the animal verbs and adverbs. Crowing, badgering, doing things doggedly, being completely and utterly foxed and so forth. And before you say it - I'm not horsing around. No more am I cowering in a corner, feeling cowed and looking cow-eyed. Besides, I know precisely what that badge is for because I saw the notice pinned up outside the post office last Monday when I went to collect my gel inserts.'
'What notice?'
'The one about the new Whingers Anonymous Club that meets in the church hall on Tuesday evenings at 7. It's like the Hellfire Club except there's no dirtiness, there's tea instead of port, and it's open only to whingeing old domino-playing half-wits like your good self.'
'What gel inserts?'
'The ones I got off Ebay for my plantar fasciitis. Which, might I add, is giving me absolute gyp this afternoon. Not that you'd care, with your shiny new badge and your new friends at the Whingers Anonymous club and all.'
Geoffrey looked crestfallen, and I immediately felt alarmed. If I didn't apologise pretty swiftly there would be no chance of his making the tea. 'I'm sorry. I'm just hacked off is all, Geoffrey. My feet hurt despite my new gel inserts, I hate my new-fangled electronic pipe and I hate being on this five two diet.'
'It was your own idea to go on a so-called health kick.'
'No it wasn't.'
'It was!'
'WASN'T! And stop looking crestfallen. You're making me feel even worse. Here am I with an electronic pipe, starving myself for five days and eating rabbit-food on the other two....'
'I'm not crestfallen. I'm cowed. And by the way Tuppy - I haven't liked to mention it before, because you've been in such a toweringly bad mood - but you're doing the five two diet the wrong way round. You're supposed to eat for five days solidly, then starve for two. You've been doing it wrong. No wonder you're feeling a touch out of sorts.'
I sighed heavily. Or as heavily as I could manage, given that I was losing more and more of my 'body weight' by the second. 'I'm such an ass. Have we any sausages?' I asked sheepishly.
'We always have sausages.'
'Good. Now pass me the opium.'
Next up - Geoffrey stabs himself in the face with the un-safety pin at the back of his badge.
'Really,' I replied, staring out of the window in my usual morose manner, while puffing on my electronic pipe and adjusting my belt inwards - yes, INwards - by yet another notch.
'Don't you want to see?' he badgered.
'No.'
'Why not? It's lovely and shiny.'
'Oh do shut up. I'm not interested in seeing anything shiny if it isn't baccy or food.'
'I know you'll like it. It's just up your alley,' he continued doggedly, 'You'll never guess what it's for - you're completely foxed, aren't you?'
'No, I'm not foxed as you put it. I'm never foxed. I don't DO foxed,' I said standing up, and flexing my plantar, 'Cattiness isn't in my nature as a general rule, but I've had more than enough of the animal verbs and adverbs. Crowing, badgering, doing things doggedly, being completely and utterly foxed and so forth. And before you say it - I'm not horsing around. No more am I cowering in a corner, feeling cowed and looking cow-eyed. Besides, I know precisely what that badge is for because I saw the notice pinned up outside the post office last Monday when I went to collect my gel inserts.'
'What notice?'
'The one about the new Whingers Anonymous Club that meets in the church hall on Tuesday evenings at 7. It's like the Hellfire Club except there's no dirtiness, there's tea instead of port, and it's open only to whingeing old domino-playing half-wits like your good self.'
'What gel inserts?'
'The ones I got off Ebay for my plantar fasciitis. Which, might I add, is giving me absolute gyp this afternoon. Not that you'd care, with your shiny new badge and your new friends at the Whingers Anonymous club and all.'
Geoffrey looked crestfallen, and I immediately felt alarmed. If I didn't apologise pretty swiftly there would be no chance of his making the tea. 'I'm sorry. I'm just hacked off is all, Geoffrey. My feet hurt despite my new gel inserts, I hate my new-fangled electronic pipe and I hate being on this five two diet.'
'It was your own idea to go on a so-called health kick.'
'No it wasn't.'
'It was!'
'WASN'T! And stop looking crestfallen. You're making me feel even worse. Here am I with an electronic pipe, starving myself for five days and eating rabbit-food on the other two....'
'I'm not crestfallen. I'm cowed. And by the way Tuppy - I haven't liked to mention it before, because you've been in such a toweringly bad mood - but you're doing the five two diet the wrong way round. You're supposed to eat for five days solidly, then starve for two. You've been doing it wrong. No wonder you're feeling a touch out of sorts.'
I sighed heavily. Or as heavily as I could manage, given that I was losing more and more of my 'body weight' by the second. 'I'm such an ass. Have we any sausages?' I asked sheepishly.
'We always have sausages.'
'Good. Now pass me the opium.'
Next up - Geoffrey stabs himself in the face with the un-safety pin at the back of his badge.
