Saint Betty

9.30am this morning, Betty came striding in, spaniel at her heels. What followed was a tiresome conversation about the price of fish. With talk of dogfish still ringing in my ears I legged it out the door and onwards to Edinburgh.

I had a glorious day off in which I played a convincing round of my ‘life is crapper than yours’ with a friend. We concluded that although the House of Pumpernickel is bad, it could be worse, as I am not a) Libyan or b) a victim of earthquake and Tsunami threatened by an imminent nuclear meltdown. Having been so cheered from a day of retail therapy and perspectivising (new word, just made it up) I returned to the House of Pain, um Pumpernickel in time to witness this exchange:

Betty: [Holding Lady P’s hand] Right then I’m off, got to go and walk the dog.
Lady P: [Holding very tightly to Betty’s hand, starting to bend the fingers back slightly] Oh, don’t go my dear.
Betty: [Wincing now, trying to retrieve hand] Really must dash!
Lady P: [Increasing pressure, Betty’s fingers going purple] Oh, don’t leave!
Betty: [Attempting to wiggle from Spock death grip] I’ll be back on Thursday, but I really must be off…
Lady P: [Unrelenting vice-like grip, gaining power] But when will I see you again?
Betty: [Looking stricken at purpling fingers] Thursday, see you Thursday, must dash… LET GO OF MY FINGERS YOU OLD FAGGOT!

Cue: absolute hysterical laughter! Lady Pumpernickel immediately let go of Betty’s fingers and doubled over in mirth and merriment. When she could finally pull herself together she wiped her cataractic old crying eyes and looking fondly at Betty said, “Oh, you! You are so naughty!” [Chuckle, chuckle, eye wipe].

?!? I’ve clearly been going about this whole thing all wrong; Lady Pumpernickel has a particularly perverted sense of humour. My badinage has been severely misplaced.

In my new quest to justify completely inappropriate behaviour as banter, I intend to start tomorrow morning with: “Good morning tit-shit-wobble-knob, did you sleep well?”

*Ps Photo is graffiti spied on an underpass in Edinburgh. Although I cannot possibly condone illegal street art, I like it.