The lovely Annie Rhiannon commented on Mr BC's blog that life at Casa Blue Cat must be 'a laugh a minute', with the pair of us being so side-splittingly hilarious and everything.
Of course she's not wrong - what with Mr BC being a comedy professional and me being, er, a professional, the standard of conversational wit at our house is always extremely high, as this exchange from last night should demonstrate:
ME (looking at laptop): Oh look, there's a glass-blowing evening at Malcolm Sutcliffe's art gallery next weekend. There will be free mince pies, and you can blow your own baubles.
MR BC: Pfft. I can blow my own baubles at home whenever I like.
ME: No you can't. You've got too many ribs.
MR BC: Oh, now, there was no need to turn it into smut.
ME: Oh wait, apparently you can't blow your own baubles at all. Apparently Malcolm does all the blowing.
MR BC: What do we do?
ME: We watch.
MR BC: I'm not going all the way to West Street to watch Malcolm blow his own baubles.
ME: He wouldn't be blowing his own baubles. He'd be blowing your baubles. For a fiver each.
MR BC: I don't want Malcolm to blow my baubles.
ME: There are free mince pies.
MR BC: All right then.
A 21st-century desert island
1 day ago