It is Saturday morning. The Missus has just got out of bed and has dressed and is wearing a vest top sort of thing. I decide to pay her a compliment. ‘I like you in that stripey vest top thing…’
‘Thank-you.’
‘It makes you look like a classy French whore from a Toulouse-Lautrec painting. It's very retro-stylish…’
She looks at me.
‘It’s a blue and white striped vest and it makes me look like an onion seller.’
I pause. She is correct. I’ve connected the wrong French image. Maybe I secretly desire French men who sell onions… Bugger. I was never very good at art anyway. I try to bluff.
‘Well in the painting that I’m thinking of it’s definitely a really attractive girl and not a man. Selling onions. Or any other vegetable for that matter.’
The Missus pauses. She smiles, then shakes her head and walks out of the bedroom.
I think I got away with it…
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