Accosted

Left the gym at 9.30am with wet hair and was accosted by some earnest-looking ladies representing Amnesty International. They've been hanging about the high street for the last few days but I've managed to avoid them until now. I'm far too busy sorting out my papayas from my paw-paws to sign petitions.

"Will you support us in fighting violence against women?"

"Sorry, I'm busy" (puts on best "harrassed mother" look despite obvious lack of child and presence of sweaty gym kit in bag).

"So you would condone violence against women?".

She was getting shirty now. This irritates me beyond belief, in the same way as people collecting for charity shaking boxes in your face asking "care to to help save orphaned children and their fluffy kittens?". I just want to buy some milk and put the washer on, I don't want to hang about signing petitions.

"You know what?" I said. "Only if they've been really naughty". She looked at me in pure astonishment. I didn't hang around for her response, but I suspect she didn't see the funny side.

I told Darren about it later. He laughed. I realised my sense of humour has become darker over time. I blame it entirely on hanging out with medics. They have to see the dark side of life; they deal with death. It helps them through.

"The Aussies just don't get our humour" he said.

"Nobody does" I replied. "Take the Americans. They're so straight in comparison".

"I wonder what it is about us? Why is our humour so different from everyone else's?"

"I think it's pretty sophisticated. You need a bloody good sense of humour to put up with living in the UK".