Читать книгу William Walker’s First Year of Marriage: A Horror Story - Matt Rudd - Страница 78

‘Barry? Barry? Barry?’

I haven’t even switched my computer on yet.

‘This is a bad line, Barry. Can you hear me, Barry? I wondered whether you were free on Sunday?…Free…On Sunday! No, Sunday…I’ve bought a lamb…Not a lamp.

‘A lamb. From the nice place in Wales where we went last summer…No, a lamb. It’s cut up and in the fridge…No, I’m fine, Barry. I said the lamb’s cut up and in the fridge. I’m going to do the shoulder on Sunday. Wondered whether you’d like to come? No, a lamb. I’ll call you back.

‘Not a lamp. It’s Sandra. No, I’ll call you back. I’ll call you back.’

This conversation is repeated throughout the day. The woman is organising a Sunday roast with a group of deaf or stupid people.

I wish a piano would crash through the ceiling and kill either her or me, I no longer care which.

When I tell Isabel I wish a piano would crush either me or Sandra, she says I should be more tolerant.