In the family way

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He’s breached the conditions of the injunction – Hector, I mean: he wasn’t supposed to go within 2 miles of old thingy - his partner, or whatever.

He was so agitated on the phone I could scarcely make out what he was going on about. I thought he said he’d gone round to get his jig-saw. ‘I didn’t know you were into woodwork’ I interjected.
‘No, you fool – I mean my jigsaw puzzle. It’s a picture of Tower Bridge - 1000 pieces, and I’d only got the sky to do.’

Anyway, when he got there he discovered that thingy had broken it up and shoved all the pieces back in the box. Said she wanted to use the dining room table as her family was coming to tea.

Hector went berserk. Well, wouldn’t you, if you’d only got the sky to do?
Anyway, she rang the police, and four coppers came round and dragged him off to the station. He was allowed one phone call, so he rang me.
‘Why ME?’ I expostulated. (We haven’t spoken since that business with the Swedish tart.)

He only wanted me to go round and bail him out! It’s a good 40 miles, and anyway, police stations bring on my Irritable Bowel Syndrome. And like I said, he’s not my real brother: I don’t know who his father is – and neither did my mother.

I’ll go though, I suppose. Don’t know why. Bit of a soft touch, I suppose.

You know, you get more trouble from your own family than you do from strangers. You are 85% more likely to be assaulted by a member of your own family than a stranger – now isn’t that a sad statistic? Also, the two most dangerous rooms in the house are the kitchen and the bedroom. Talk about ‘safe sex’… if you don’t go one way, you go the other.