realised. Friday the 13th. Not an auspicious day. So I did it on the Saturday instead.’
‘But that was –’
‘Exactly. St Valentine’s Day. Love me, love my colon.’
‘How often do you think that happens, Friday the 13th followed by Valentine’s Day?’
‘Pass.’
‘Pass.’
‘When I was a boy – a lad – a young man – I don’t thinkI sent a single valentine or got one. It just wasn’t what … people I knew did. The only ones I’ve had have come since I’ve been married.’
‘Joanna, aren’t you worried by that?’
‘No. He means, I send them.’
‘Ah, sweet. Indeed, schweeeet .’
‘You know, I’ve heard of your famous English emotional reticence, but that really does set the bar high. Not sending valentines till after you’re married.’
‘I read that there was a possible link between Seville oranges and bowel cancer.’
‘Did you really?’
‘No, but it’s the sort of thing you say when it gets late.’
‘You’re funnier when you don’t strain so much.’
‘I remember one of the first times I went into a lavatory stall and read the graffiti, there was one that said, “Do not bite the knob while straining.” It took me about five years to work it out.’
‘Is that knob as in knob?’
‘No, it’s knob as in doorknob.’
‘Changing the subject entirely, I was in a stall once and taking my leisure when I noticed something written down at the bottom of the side wall at a sort of slant. So I bent over until I could read it, and it said, “You are now crapping at an angle of 45 degrees.”’
‘I would just like to say that the reason I mentioned marmalade …’
‘Apart from its link to bowel cancer.’
‘Is because it’s such a British phenomenon. Larry was saying how we’re now all the same. So instead of saying the Royal Family or whatever, I said marmalade.’
‘We have it in the States.’
‘You have it, in little pots in hotels at breakfast. But you don’t make it in your homes , you don’t understand it.’
‘The French have it. Confiture d’orange.’
‘Same thing applies. That’s just jam. Orange jam.’
‘No, it’s French to begin with, it comes from “ Marie malade ”. That Queen of Scotland who had French connections.’
‘FCUK. They were here already?’
‘And Mary, Queen of Scots, or Bloody Mary, or whoever it was, was ill. And they made it for her. So Marie malade – marmalade. See?’
‘I think we were there already.’
‘Anyway, I’ll tell you why we Brits will always remain British.’
‘Don’t you hate the way everyone says “the UK” or just “UK” nowadays? Not to mention “UK plc” and all that.’
‘I think Tony Blair started it.’
‘I thought you blamed everything on Mrs Thatcher.’
‘No, I’ve switched. It’s all Blair’s fault now.’
‘“UK plc”’s just honest. We’re a trading nation, always were. Thatch just reconnected us to the real England that is for ever England – money-worshipping, self-interested, xenophobic, culture-hating. It’s our default setting.’
‘As I was saying, do you know what we also celebrate on February the 14th, apart from St Valentine’s Day?’
‘National Bowel-Screening Day?’
‘Shut up, Dick.’
‘No. It’s also National Impotence Day.’
‘I lurv your Breedish sense of yumor.’
‘I lurv your Croatian accent.’
‘But it’s true. And if anyone asks me about national characteristics, or irony, for that matter, that’s what I tell them: February the 14th.’
‘Blood oranges.’
‘Let me guess. Named after Bloody Mary.’
‘Did you notice a few years ago they started calling blood oranges “rubyoranges” in supermarkets? Just in case anyone thought they might really contain blood.’
‘As opposed to containing rubies.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Anyway, they’re just about coming into the shops, so they’re overlapping with Sevilles, and I was wondering if that happens as often, say, as Friday the 13th precedes Valentine’s
‘But that was –’
‘Exactly. St Valentine’s Day. Love me, love my colon.’
‘How often do you think that happens, Friday the 13th followed by Valentine’s Day?’
‘Pass.’
‘Pass.’
‘When I was a boy – a lad – a young man – I don’t thinkI sent a single valentine or got one. It just wasn’t what … people I knew did. The only ones I’ve had have come since I’ve been married.’
‘Joanna, aren’t you worried by that?’
‘No. He means, I send them.’
‘Ah, sweet. Indeed, schweeeet .’
‘You know, I’ve heard of your famous English emotional reticence, but that really does set the bar high. Not sending valentines till after you’re married.’
‘I read that there was a possible link between Seville oranges and bowel cancer.’
‘Did you really?’
‘No, but it’s the sort of thing you say when it gets late.’
‘You’re funnier when you don’t strain so much.’
‘I remember one of the first times I went into a lavatory stall and read the graffiti, there was one that said, “Do not bite the knob while straining.” It took me about five years to work it out.’
‘Is that knob as in knob?’
‘No, it’s knob as in doorknob.’
‘Changing the subject entirely, I was in a stall once and taking my leisure when I noticed something written down at the bottom of the side wall at a sort of slant. So I bent over until I could read it, and it said, “You are now crapping at an angle of 45 degrees.”’
‘I would just like to say that the reason I mentioned marmalade …’
‘Apart from its link to bowel cancer.’
‘Is because it’s such a British phenomenon. Larry was saying how we’re now all the same. So instead of saying the Royal Family or whatever, I said marmalade.’
‘We have it in the States.’
‘You have it, in little pots in hotels at breakfast. But you don’t make it in your homes , you don’t understand it.’
‘The French have it. Confiture d’orange.’
‘Same thing applies. That’s just jam. Orange jam.’
‘No, it’s French to begin with, it comes from “ Marie malade ”. That Queen of Scotland who had French connections.’
‘FCUK. They were here already?’
‘And Mary, Queen of Scots, or Bloody Mary, or whoever it was, was ill. And they made it for her. So Marie malade – marmalade. See?’
‘I think we were there already.’
‘Anyway, I’ll tell you why we Brits will always remain British.’
‘Don’t you hate the way everyone says “the UK” or just “UK” nowadays? Not to mention “UK plc” and all that.’
‘I think Tony Blair started it.’
‘I thought you blamed everything on Mrs Thatcher.’
‘No, I’ve switched. It’s all Blair’s fault now.’
‘“UK plc”’s just honest. We’re a trading nation, always were. Thatch just reconnected us to the real England that is for ever England – money-worshipping, self-interested, xenophobic, culture-hating. It’s our default setting.’
‘As I was saying, do you know what we also celebrate on February the 14th, apart from St Valentine’s Day?’
‘National Bowel-Screening Day?’
‘Shut up, Dick.’
‘No. It’s also National Impotence Day.’
‘I lurv your Breedish sense of yumor.’
‘I lurv your Croatian accent.’
‘But it’s true. And if anyone asks me about national characteristics, or irony, for that matter, that’s what I tell them: February the 14th.’
‘Blood oranges.’
‘Let me guess. Named after Bloody Mary.’
‘Did you notice a few years ago they started calling blood oranges “rubyoranges” in supermarkets? Just in case anyone thought they might really contain blood.’
‘As opposed to containing rubies.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Anyway, they’re just about coming into the shops, so they’re overlapping with Sevilles, and I was wondering if that happens as often, say, as Friday the 13th precedes Valentine’s
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