Me and RJ/RJ and I went to Muffin Break for a swift drink and cake. I had a coffee and apple cake. She had tea and a scone.
This is what is known as setting the scene for the following story. Are you with me?
RJ then decided she needed the loo. But – disaster! – she still had half a sconn left.
RJ: “Can I trust you not to eat this scown?”
Me: “Of course!”*
RJ: “No. No, I can’t.”
[RJ stares at sconn]
RJ: “I’ve memorised the exact configuration of scown, jam and cream. I will know if you touch it. Hang on! Wait! I’ve got a camera!”
RJ then proceeded to take a photograph of said sconn. The lack of trust in this marriage is disappointing isn’t it?
Now anyone who knows me at all will have no problem guessing what I did next, as RJ left for the toilet. Unfortunately, the man next to me chose this moment to introduce himself into the story.
Man: “Hello, are you from XXXX?”**
Me: “Um, no.”
Man: “Ah, you look a lot like someone I know from there.”
Me: “Ah, um. You must know them very well. It’s not me I’m afraid.”
I then proceeded to jump over the table, take a photograph of me licking RJ’s sconn and return to my seat. AS ANY NORMAL PERSON WOULD.
The man looked on uncomfortably, drank his drink in about three seconds and then left.
Where did I go wrong?
* She absolutely couldn’t. I would have eaten it.
** There isn’t really a place near us named after an Australian beer, it’s just I don’t remember what he said. But I wasn’t from there.