I say, I say, I say … my dog’s got no nose …
*Oh Clicky-Doo that’s wonderful … photography is not my forte …*
“I suppose you can always jazz it up.” Thoughtful Man handed the camera back to me, perfectly timed to his zooming squint. “What’s the connection between the two?”
“Whitehouse…” My eyes signaled which way I would turn my head before I did. Left in this instance.
“That’s extremely tenuous and nobody will understand the connection, except me”. Laser squint dissolved into rapid blinking. “One. Newman and Baddiel were only half of the ‘Mary Whitehouse Experience‘.” He shook his head. “And number two. We only met Paul Whitehouse at Roy’s play.”
“You were too shy to even talk to him, for goodness sake!”
*Marc Warren, Clicky? Oh he was very shy when I told how brilliant he was at playing Thoughtful Man …*
“Hello. Seriously, are you not listening to me?” He was wearing his ‘You’re not listening to me’ expression.
“Of course I was listening.” I thought fast. “You said, ‘You can connect anything to anything else if you look hard enough. It’s just coincidence. Everybody has them’.” I turned the camera back and took his photo *Click*.
The squint was back. “Lucky guess”.
“Of course. I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I married you.” Unfortunately the deadpan delivery only served intensified the squint.
“True.” He rubbed his chin. “But you do spend far too much time on the internet.” Again true …
“I’ll be as flexible as I can with your synchronicity malarky but I’ll be glad when your holiday is over and you get back to real work.” His face was set …
*I said ‘set’, Clicky.*
Gently, he took the camera back, laid it on the table and took my hand. “Why are you spending all day chatting to great unwashed, listening to rubbish and chasing old laughs?” He looked at me thoughtfully. “I’m on holiday, too. We could connect”.
*Not fair and not true, Clicky… /rolls eyes… So jealous…*