Throw out the lifeline

Syd has done a runner – again. I went to take him his Horlicks last night, knocked on his door – no answer. Gently eased open the door. Room empty.
A cursory inspection quickly revealed that his suitcase was gone from under the bed (quite an interesting collection of magazines though – I will check them out later), and his wardrobe was almost empty. Scanning his bookshelf I could see that Thoreau’s ‘Walden’ had gone and, most significantly, his ‘Rupert Album’ – Millenium edition.

My heart leapt with joy at first, thinking that he had seen the light and scarpered, in order to avoid the pregnancy unpleasantness. Not so. As I turned round I saw, to my horror, scrawled on the mirror over his washbasin, the words ‘We have eloped’ (I have just realised that this shocking message was written in lipstick - a particularly virulent shade of purple. I would know this shade anywhere - so difficult to remove from white collars: the Swedish tart! What can this mean?)

I staggered downstairs, tears in my eyes. Once I had gained the sanctuary of my study, I reached for the bottle of Sjlivovica I brought back from Croatia. Pouring myself a large one, I grabbed the phone and rang Carol. I know I said I would not go back to that dreadful council estate, but at times like this a chap needs a shoulder to cry on.

As I was leaving the house, the lesbian and her paramour were cycling up the drive (they have bought a tandem – it is supposed to symbolise something) and I shouted to my dear wife – I don’t suppose you’re interested, but your son has eloped!

Oh my God! what am I going to do, Anna – she cried, leaping off the rear saddle. Unfortunately, in her haste she knocked over the bike and brought the tall Swede crashing to the gravel. Well, you should have heard the language (in Spanish of course).

I left them to it and walked out into the avenue. Carol was going to pick me up on her scooter. No trouble. She was on her way to the 'Social' to give 'em Hell - her giro hasn't arrived. She said she would bring Gary’s helmet, as his head was about the same size as mine.
Funny but I didn’t like that. I mean her knowing my head was the same size as her jailbird husband's. What else has she been comparing?