Dad!!!!! gimme five hundred pounds.
I don’t know why they, which is to say women, always choose that particular time of day to spring on their little “requests”. Maybe they’ve been lying awake all night just waiting for the look of dismay on my face.
Now some would say that I’m pretty much useless all the time but before my first cup of tea of the day I possess the mental acuity of a retarded tree sloth. I ignored her until the first few sips of nectar had passed my dry and trembling mouth.
‘You know I’m going on holiday to America?’ How could I forget when she hasn’t drawn a single breath in the past fortnight without the subject arising. ‘Well I can’t go but even though I’ve found someone to take my place the holiday company said they couldn’t change my name for the girl who’s going instead.’
I remember the company well. No names but I’d like to get hold of the opera singer who advertises it and twist that long twirly moustache around his neck until he never warbled another note.
‘So they won’t let me change my name and British Airways say they’ve never heard of me.’
‘Even though you have a ticket. Leave it to me.’
A really long hour later I gave it up. I’m still none the wiser as to why it’s impossible to delete a name on the computer and replace it with another. I even offered to pay for the service but the tone of absolute bored indifference from the operator suggested that I didn’t have enough money in the world to induce her to perform the heinous thirty second job of looking.
And now I don’t have enough money for, well anything because I’ve got to give my little cherub fiver hundred quid so that she can go or the girl she’s going with will lose the whole £1000 deposit.