Having little better to do, I call one of my clients upon the tele-phone.
The client is not a happy man. He has a hardened artery in his leg and has had to suffer much surgery, and even more time off work. He is self-employed. He is not content.
Me: Hi George. [His name is not George.]
George: [Remorsefully] Oh. Hi Tired.
Me: Going mad much?
George: The holidays are the worst. I mean. If I don’t work for a couple of weeks I go a bit mad anyway.
Me: With you. Me too.
George: Aye. But. The holidays. The kids are ALWAYS around. I think I’m losing it. It’s been two months now. I can’t walk far.
Me: Look. They’re your children. Enjoy the time. I know it’s tough when you don’t really think you can do anything and there’s not much money about, but take the time. Relish this time with-
George: You don’t understand.
George: My wife’s a nanny.
Me: Oh dear God.
Me: She doesn’t-
Me: How many?
George: Eight. Including my two. In the house. All the time. All summer. All day.
George: I know.
Me: I love children. If they’re actually MINE.
George: Yeah. The same.
Me: God. You know what you need? A shed.
George: Had a couple of mates build one at the end of the garden last week. I’m talking to you from there now.
Me: You've actually had one purpose-built? Superb. All you need now is one of those little fridges that you can fit six cans of lager into and you’re sorted. [I assumed I was joking at this point.]
George: I got satellite television now.
Me: In the house?
George: Naw. Got the dish put on the side of The Shed this week. Sky Sports. Plasma screen.
Me: You’re joking?
George: [Puzzled] No.
I’m not a big sports fan. But this sounds too good to be true.
Me: Can I come round?