Baby girl, I think we need to have a chat.
I sat down and put on my best serious face.
The Good Lady looked up from her phone, her nose twitching at my words as if she was trying to pee in the sea.
I beg your pardon?
She cocked her head to the side like a pigeon spying a kebab.
We need to have a little chat. Come on, put your phone down a mo.
I smiled easily and confidently trying not to expose the terror that was flowing through my veins like the weekend wine at what I was about to say.
Bemused, the Good Lady put down her phone.
Ok darling. What can I do for you?
She chuckled, obviously assuming that whatever I wanted to talk about would revolve around drinking beer or trying to book a ham shank.
and no, for non-link-clickers, I wasn't intending on making soup. At least no soup that anyone in their right mind would be drinking a bowl of.
Well. It has been quite a while since you managed to do some Doula work, what with all the COVID shenanigans...
We both nodded at that. After all, in the midst of a deadly pandemic, the last thing you want to be doing is to be footering about at the gaping maw of death that is a lady's vagina during childbirth.
note, the above is not a vagina in the midst of calving but seemed oddly apt.
And you know, I was looking at our finances and was thinking... Errm, perhaps you might like to start looking for a job..?
On hearing this, the Good Lady frowned deeply.
Outside a dog shat itself. Further away, a man in Sudan screamed and fell to the ground, stone dead.
The silence stretched out excruciatingly. The Good Lady's mouth twisted then appeared to chew at invisible jerky while her brows humped together. Strange muscles I had never seen before clenched at the sides of her head as if she were a giant clam making something pearly, deep in its fleshy innards.
Sorry?
She uttered, her icy tone suggesting that no she was not sorry. In fact, the only one who was going to be sorry was Boomy Boomy Sore Baws.
Hey, you know, it is hard with just me bringing in the money. So I was wondering if it was time for you to start looking for a job?
The Good Lady drew herself to her feet and faced me straight on.
I sighed and resigned myself to being dead. She was touchy about this kind of thing, as if when I mentioned her not working I was saying she was just sitting around on her arse playing with herself all day.
No smoke without fire though.
I could see her mouth opening. Ready to deliver a salvo of death and threats. I steeled myself.
Aw, is Daddywaddy all humpy and getting his knickers in a twist. Silly willy Daddy.
She came over and flobbled her bottom lip with a finger at me in that mean crying gesture that kids in nursery/kindergarten torment each other with.
So you going to start looking?
I mumbled, confused by her lack of berserkness that I should suggest anything as crazy as her getting a real job.
The Good Lady breezed on past me.
I have already started looking, you wank.
Her voice echoed from the hall.
Oh. Right. No death today and the missus called me a wank...
Not a bad achievement for a Friday.