Just yesterday, I came across a blue plastic fold up hairbrush, with the words "Royal National Lifeboat Institution" on it, you know, one of those free "gifts" charities like to give away. Anyway, it turned out that my lovely and generous in-laws had given this as a present for my two young children, Rictus and Shirley. My "cheap tat" radar had been in force all day, and anything considered broken, nasty or hairy was being thrown with glee into my bin liner. I picked the brush up, noted its non-existent quality and threw it straight into the bag with a flourish (and a click of the heels, to boot). I forgot about the brush, finished tidying up and then went to my Elizabethan dance lesson.
Later that evening, Crispin returned home. Dinner of squirrel was on the table, telling everyone it was rabbit to pacify them. Crispin enjoyed the meal and then left the table to go upstairs to fart and do other stuff. I washed the dishes and listened to Demis Roussos.
I'd just finished drying up the cutlery, when I heard a loud shriek upstairs, coming from Crispin's living room (Crispin had his own living room, for reasons I won't go into). Then heavy footsteps coming down the stairs (probably due to the cement shoes he insists on wearing). Before I had time to ask "what the bloody fuck is up, darling?" he shoved the blue plastic fold-up brush in my face and shouted "how dare you throw the children's Christmas present in the bin - my parents saved hard for that plastic hairbrush!"
"They didn't save for it - it's a freebie from that charity" I spat.
"Okay" he conceded "however, it's the thought that counts!" He spat back with a cliche.
"Yes, it is the thought that counts, but were they both in a coma when they had that particular thought?" I asked calmly and exited the room before he could answer, with the mantra "twats" going round in my mind.
I usually think of my quick quips about 3 hours after the event - well done :)
ReplyDeleteIs it ok if I rip this off and tell people I wrote it?
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