It’s been a long year and quite frankly I’m at that stage of just wanting to get it done and get away. And so, while I am normally a very polite person in public, I give fair warning to everybody out there that my patience is wearing thin.
If you ask me “How’s your day?” or “How’re you doing?” I may, just may, actually tell you the truth. It will take some considerable time as I explain my battles with finding a park, and the idiots who were in front of me in the queue as they searched in their voluminous bags for their wallets because who on earth could have foretold that they’d need it when they got to the till, and what’s wrong with bloody cash anyway, and how I didn’t sleep well last night because of the hay fever, and what on earth is going on with Samoan rugby? I may give you my views on how media have lost their way, and what’s wrong with our immigration laws, and what to do about Television Match Officials. I have also been thinking about the Gallipoli campaign and why it isn’t entirely fair to describe it as a complete failure because at least Churchill was trying to do something rather than accept the stasis of slaughter on the Western Front. Let me draw you a diagram.
Alternatively, I may give you one of the answers that I have prepared in my head for such enquiries but
rarely never have the requisite discourtesy to use:
- My parole officer thinks I’m doing really well, thanks.
- The new ointment is really good.
- I’m enjoying my visit to your planet.
- I’m saved!