Specs Appeal…

It’s been well-documented through large sections of this blog that the missus and the boy think I’m a super-sized idiot.

And it’s an idiocy that can take many forms… Fashion faux pas (‘You actually bought that?!’), conversational misunderstandings (‘Cunning stunts is what I actually said…’), DIY disasters (‘You never thought to check for power cables first then?’) and a propensity to make things up as I go along and then pass them off as fact (‘So when you said farting was acceptable in an Indian restaurant that was a lie, wasn’t it?') are just a few of my claims to fame.

But my latest piece of inspiration may top all this. I went to a very flash optician recently and I ordered a new pair of spectacles. I also paid a small fortune for them and was very full of myself – until I told the missus…

‘So you went and bought glasses - without me?’
‘Might have done…’
‘Did you or didn’t you?’
‘Yes…’
‘And do they look nice?’
‘Yes…’
‘Would I think they look nice?’
‘What’s for tea?’
‘Would I think they look nice?’
‘Maybe…’

I’m still waiting for my specs to arrive but I now have a horrible feeling that I bought something that will make me look like a cross between Sue Pollard, Mike Harding and Timmy Mallett.

Maybe I just shouldn’t be allowed out on my own…