Take the Lady out Of the Van, The Bath Plug, and The Staple Machine.

Inane name dropping is a pestilence in some quarters, it drives me mad and makes me run for the hills or whatever lower class roots I can find??? I had to listen to one of these antediluvians recently and it did take the Lady out of the Van if you will forgive the pun. I am sure you all got the subtlety here. I tried to stem the stem the repellent tide of genealogy by chirping up that my mother and father were from a generation of Dockers and so forth and that my “mum” cleaned the “ toilets” at Paddington station and made a bit on the side there from randy office workers and got the clap which meant I couldn’t go to school . The endless vomit stopped for a moment with the fabulous comment, that surely both my parents can’t have been working class, and I did cover it up awfully well “Check your facts “ mate two lots of Ducal….. you know the sort of thing!

But is that worse than some of the obsessions that play out here? The latest has been about a bath plug. I gently enquired, in my sweet caring way whether the bath plug problem would require at least a whole day for a solution to be achieved and preclude any other activities, as it was merely a matter of hooking it round the chain. “You never know” came the dark ominous reply. But don’t get me started on the replacement staples. Now that has gone on for two weeks, it went quiet over the Christmas period but now it has found legs again. You know there is a lot you can do with a plug chain and some staples.

I had a great plan for a new book but now find that is has been done many times. Someone has suggested that I do a diary of my domestic life but dream on it is hardly best seller material but I could make it up, most people don’t listen to anything anyone says.

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