Sunday morning entry: Saturday Night on the town.

There’s an unwritten rule that we only patrol in pairs after six on Saturdays. I’m with Phil again this evening which means the conversation will be scintillating. Not unnaturally, we’re talking about the news. As I no longer watch TV but go to more in depth news sources, this is good for a laugh. Not.

“Not heard anything about that GI in Iraq.” Muses Phil.
“Didn’t you know?” Says I. “It’s a hoax. A GI Joe doll.”
“You’re taking the piss.” Says Phil derisively.
“Nope.” I reply. “It’s a hoax. Look at the picture carefully. It’s a doll.”
“I thought the kit looked wrong.”
“Didn’t you look at the guys expression?” There is a long pause.
“Now you come to mention it – yeah.”
“And the reflection off his forehead – his plastic forehead?”
“Fuckin’ hell.” Phil concludes as realisation dawns.
“They’d better, or I’m not going.”
“Thanks Bill.”
“My pleasure mate.”

Time for an abrupt subject change. “You see about that riot in the IKEA store?” Says Phil.
“Yep.” Says I. “What a thing to riot about – crap flat pack furniture.” We both snigger at the antics of people desperate to have cheap furniture in their des res’s. This is all very well but I’m getting a headache trying to think down to Phil’s level. Nice bloke – shame about the brain. Maybe I’m in the wrong job here.