It's Only Me - I'll Catch Ya' Later
Attractive Young Nurse
Don't go out today!
Spiderman - looking glum
The North Face of the Eiger
Daisy - a sweet little tortoiseshell kitten
The Vote: How It Was Won and How It Was Undermined by Paul Foot is available from Bookmarks, the socialist bookshop, at a special price of £20. Phone 020 7637 1848 or go to www.bookmarks.uk.com,
Why do people say irritating things like, 'I'll catch ya' later'? What is it: a threat? Or is it anticipation of their own derring-do? Are they having a premonition about my impending tragedy? If that's the case, why don’t they just say, "Don't go out today! You're gonna fall down a manhole - but don't worry, I'll be there to catch ya'."
"Oh that's alright then." I should reply duly relieved, "Whether or not I go out today, you've got me covered. You must be my guardian angel. (And here was me thinking you're just the numpty that lives next door.)
"Please do catch me - as soon as possible!" I'm tempted to add, "If I'm falling off a cliff, or tumbling over a high building without my Spiderman outfit on. "Otherwise keep your interfering hands off me”.
Here’s another thing! Why is it that the one person that I least want to see, has to introduce himself with irritating sayings like, "It's only me"? "Only!" he says, as if that should put my mind at rest - when I'm really thinking, "Trust him to turn up now - like a pernicious bout of diarrhoea whilst scaling the North face of The Eiger.
Isn't he the one that wants me to fall over a cliff, just so he can catch me? No doubt, he just wants to feel superior, in his usual perverse way. Isn't he the one who kept me awake all night worrying that he might turn up in the wee small hours, (taking me at gunpoint, perhaps), to the nearest cliff so he could push me over and catch me - later"? Not necessarily, mark you, when I need him to be there, to catch me - later, if you please! He'll do it in his own good time, no less. I mean it’s obvious he’s had the whole thing planned. How else would he be so sure what’s going to happen - later?
How much later, I wonder. There's not much point (from my point of view) in him coming through the door with his, "It's only me", "I'll catch you later" - or for that matter, "I'll catch you now", utterances, after the traumatic event is all over. When, for example - there I am, having my damaged bits-and-pieces bandaged up by an attractive young nurse. There I am, busy regaling her with my heroic story. She’s, listening, dewy-eyed and spellbound. I’m describing how I received my horrific injuries whilst, with complete disregard for my own safety, I rescued a cute little Dalmatian puppy from a raging torrent of verbal incompetence. On the other hand, (depending on her preference - which, of course, I'll have cunningly ascertained beforehand) how dashingly, I intervened on behalf of a sweet little tortoiseshell kitten. There I’ll be, bloodied, but not bowed in absolute modesty (in my typical heroic fashion) - illuminating expansively, in my usual charming way, how I pulled the bedraggled wretch, just in time, from the pulsating posterior of a maniacal halfwit. The same maniacal halfwit, I might add, who keeps bursting through my front door uninvited, and saying, “It’s only me”, as if I ought to consider that to be some sort of consolation for a plan typically thwarted by his importunity.
There I am, about to ask her what she's doing on Saturday night that doesn't require a man to have full use of his faculties - and he seems to think that a salutation such as, "It's only me", is likely to put a man with bruised-and-battered bits-and-pieces (with added pressures hopefully forthcoming) into a more welcoming disposition. "I'll catch ya' later", would suit the mood better, coming from him; being as it is a goodbye, of sorts.
What's more - especially with an attractive young nurse in attendance, I suppose it's much more appropriate than the profanities that first spring to mind, when he usually bursts in uninvited. That’s not to say that all attractive young nurses would object to profanity these days - but you never know, she might be the God-fearing sort. Nor that there's any guarantee either, that attractive young nurses should have predilections for Dalmatian puppies or bedraggled kittens rescued heroically from the bowels of despair. For all I know, she might be the sort that eats such things alive - never mind senior citizens with damaged bits-and-pieces, complete with prostate complications. But that’s all speculation; I haven’t even fallen over the cliff yet, and knowing my luck I’d get a great big ugly male nurse bandaging my odds and ends. No doubt he’d come through the door saying, “It’s only me.” And leave saying, “I’ll catch ya’ later.” (To which I’d reply, “Don’t start that again!”)
However, getting back to the point - and knowing him - whatever I say is likely to fall on deaf ears, attached as they are, to the kind of head, that’s attached to the kind of plonker, who's chosen way of saying goodbye is an irritating, "Catch ya' later".
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