Escalation.
It all started quite normally and then went terribly wrong.
Interior. Office. Day.
Me: [Gazing out the window] It’s a nice afternoon actually. I’m looking forward to getting home and sitting in the garden for a while.
Blonde Colleague: [Looking at me as though I’d just announced that gang-raping her mother would be quite the chuckle] You fucking what?
Me: Em. Well. I’ve a back garden now. Bit of a novelty. Thought it would be nice. Seems like quite a pleasant evening. Maybe.
BC: What the fuck do you want to do that for?
Me: Em. Because. You know. Sit in the garden. Glass of wine. Cigarette and that. Just relax I suppose.
BC: Oh yeah? You’ll be fucking freezing. You can do all of that in your front room AND watch television.
Me: I don’t really watch televi-
BC: Don’t even get me started on that one you fucking freak.
Me: Anyway. It’s July.
BC: Yeah? And in the winter? Genius?
Me: Well –
BC: Oh. You’re going to get one of those fucking gas heaters [said as though her mother had indeed been gang-raped by some awful gang of libidious gas heaters] aren’t you?
Me: Now you mention it. That would be good.
BC: WHY?!
Me: Well. I could sit outside in the winter as well.
BC: WHAT?! You can sit inside! And not have bats in your hair!
Me: It wouldn’t be the same. [I am sensing that this is becoming an ‘outdoors versus indoors’ argument and that I have not made my case sufficiently strong. And that I’d only said that it would be quite nice to sit in my new back garden anyway.]
BC: So you’re going to spend money to sit all year round in your garden doing EVERYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO IN THEIR FRONT ROOMS without being able to see your telly with bats in your hair and moths and butterflies living in your silly beard?
Me: Look-
BC: And do you know what’ll happen? ‘Cos I’ll tell you. Your neighbours will be on the phone and they’ll be all like “ Hello is that the police? It’s just I think the man next door is a peeping-tom. He’s really skinny so he thinks I can’t see him hiding behind his fucking gas heater but I can see his beady little shrimp-eyes sticking out and his weird E.T. fingers. Can you send a car straight away?”
Me: Ok.
BC: Good?
Me: Not as good as when you told me I look like a cross between Pierce Brosnan [good] and Stephen Hawking [bad].
BC: [Small amount of snot coming out of her nose] Did I say that? I am ON FIRE! You do look a bit crippled though.
Me: Mmmmmm.
I’d just said about the garden and that.
Interior. Office. Day.
Me: [Gazing out the window] It’s a nice afternoon actually. I’m looking forward to getting home and sitting in the garden for a while.
Blonde Colleague: [Looking at me as though I’d just announced that gang-raping her mother would be quite the chuckle] You fucking what?
Me: Em. Well. I’ve a back garden now. Bit of a novelty. Thought it would be nice. Seems like quite a pleasant evening. Maybe.
BC: What the fuck do you want to do that for?
Me: Em. Because. You know. Sit in the garden. Glass of wine. Cigarette and that. Just relax I suppose.
BC: Oh yeah? You’ll be fucking freezing. You can do all of that in your front room AND watch television.
Me: I don’t really watch televi-
BC: Don’t even get me started on that one you fucking freak.
Me: Anyway. It’s July.
BC: Yeah? And in the winter? Genius?
Me: Well –
BC: Oh. You’re going to get one of those fucking gas heaters [said as though her mother had indeed been gang-raped by some awful gang of libidious gas heaters] aren’t you?
Me: Now you mention it. That would be good.
BC: WHY?!
Me: Well. I could sit outside in the winter as well.
BC: WHAT?! You can sit inside! And not have bats in your hair!
Me: It wouldn’t be the same. [I am sensing that this is becoming an ‘outdoors versus indoors’ argument and that I have not made my case sufficiently strong. And that I’d only said that it would be quite nice to sit in my new back garden anyway.]
BC: So you’re going to spend money to sit all year round in your garden doing EVERYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO IN THEIR FRONT ROOMS without being able to see your telly with bats in your hair and moths and butterflies living in your silly beard?
Me: Look-
BC: And do you know what’ll happen? ‘Cos I’ll tell you. Your neighbours will be on the phone and they’ll be all like “ Hello is that the police? It’s just I think the man next door is a peeping-tom. He’s really skinny so he thinks I can’t see him hiding behind his fucking gas heater but I can see his beady little shrimp-eyes sticking out and his weird E.T. fingers. Can you send a car straight away?”
Me: Ok.
BC: Good?
Me: Not as good as when you told me I look like a cross between Pierce Brosnan [good] and Stephen Hawking [bad].
BC: [Small amount of snot coming out of her nose] Did I say that? I am ON FIRE! You do look a bit crippled though.
Me: Mmmmmm.
I’d just said about the garden and that.
posted by Tired Dad at
1:33 am
13 Comments:
I had forgotten how funny you are! How refreshing. Many congratulations, etc.
Hurrah! You're back. And, I've found you, all thanks to Non-Workingmonky, who obv. has nothing better to do than play traffic cop and direct us to Here.
i too was sent, no ordered here by NWM... As is often the case, her recommendations are spot on! totally worth the visit.. grant-from-work should perhaps have his own spin-off blog?
Obviously a woman in love.
She's jealous of the garden.
'bats in your hair .. butterflies living in your silly beard'
It is quite a picture, although i like to imagine a toad croaking nearby also.
A beard? Oh dear. You must look like a diseased Yak. All people with beards look like diseased Yaks.
I'm with the blond. Well I would be given half a chance....
No office should be considered complete without it's resident TV/sport/drink/member of the opposite sex [Delete as applicable] addict - I believe it's now a SHE or ISO requirement...
Hey, you've been back since May and it took the Monkeygirl to tell us! C'MON, you could have sent a plane over with some sort of banner or something on it...
Anyway. Re-bookmarked, you are. Glad to see there's some continuity in this sorry world.
NWM: Praise indeed. Thanks.
Tea: Hello again.
M: Welcome. GFW can write his own bloody blog.
E: I doubt she's that worried about the garden and is certainly not that taken either. It's odd to meet someone as capable of such irrational anger at the most inoffensive as me though.
C: Sadly not.
Preach: It's a silly goat-thing-whatever-they-call-them. And Blonde Colleague would eat you for breakfast.
Chris: Welcome. And I'm sure that made sense when you typed it.
B: Hi. Welcome back.
Aw, seems to be a bit of de-escatation...
Is BC single?
She sounds like she'd be great fun to bump into on a stag night.
Dont tell me you are still in the garden?
P: I know. Nothing much really happens to me though.
Inch: She isn't. But yes, she would be.
D: Alright, alright.
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