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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

On Sunday night, we were standing on the steps outside He Who Only…'s house. We were mid-way through a short pub crawl, moving from one to the other at a slow but steady pace, and had stopped to pick up toothbrushes and that, because dental and personal hygeine are of course very high up on our respective agendas.

It was just getting dark but the night was still incredibly warm. I had started to move down the steps towards the street, but we were having some kind of fussy trouble with the front door, which is always the way when a couple of drinks have been imbibed - doors and their locks start misbehaving in the most mysterious way. As I stood there, two steps down from the door, a fire engine was driving slowly up the road, taking their time over the speed bumps.

I immediately saluted to the driver and his mate. He Who Only… noted this and quite rightly adopted the appropriate stance behind me. We both stood with our left arms straight down at our sides, right arms raised in a stiff and solid salute, stock still safe for the light tremor of drunken giggling. The fire engine continued its steady crawl along the street. The driver's mate nudged the driver and pointed at us. The driver glanced at us, and then continued to stare ahead of him. The driver's mate laughed, and then blessed us with the most over enthusiastic return of salute I've seen since Top Gun.

We laughed for about 20 minutes.

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