“What the f*ck do you mean that there’s nothing more you can do for me?"
Then she starts throwing files and chairs around, and ends up holding a letter-opener to my throat. (Why do the nutters always go for my throat? Is it because I am almost a midget?)
Greg is surprisingly butch (for him). He attempts to take hold of Mrs Nudd from behind, but then she grabs me and hangs on, so Greg tries harder and manages to yank her backwards, though she still doesn't let go of my neck. When he eventually succeeds in throwing her off-balance, she dislodges me from my chair and we all end up in a heap on the floor.
I phone the Police while Greg manhandles (boyhandles?) the still-struggling Mrs Nudd towards the door. She calms down a bit when she hears me reporting the assault, and Greg seizes the opportunity to push her over the threshold and slam the door - but not before she’s hissed, right in his face,
“You are the ugliest f*cker I‘ve ever seen in my life.”
Then she goes off into the sunset to pick yet another fight with her daughter-in-law. How on earth does she expect us to make her son “see sense and come home”?
“Dad’s joined bloody Facebook now,” she says.
“And?” I say. There’s always an “and” with Dinah.
“He’s got six friends already, apart from me - and they’re all women. I told you not to teach him to use that computer!”
“Well, maybe they’re old school-friends or something,” I say - with an optimism I do not feel.
“They’re all about twenty and look Thai! Silver surfer, my arse.”
Dinah sucks noisily on her cigarette for emphasis, says “Fucksake!” and hangs up. Sometimes I think it wouldn’t matter if I walked off when she phones, like I do with Miss Chambers. I am nothing more than a receptacle for the venting of others and it’s very tiring.
I look hideous in all the non-gurning ones so then I have to spend hours trying to photograph myself without getting my arms in the frame. This is not as easy as it sounds. No wonder all those EMO kids look so odd in their MySpace profile pictures. I end up sending one showing me with my eyes closed, on the basis that this allows me to retain an air of mystery.