Articles in “Strange Conversations”

MOTHER: Well, I think Alan Jones …
ME: Alan Joyce.
MOTHER: Well, whatever the little Irishman is called.
ME: I think Aled Jones is Welsh.
MOTHER: What does Aled Jones have to do with it?
ME: About as much as Alan Jones.
MOTHER: I didn’t say Alan Jones. I said Alan Joyce!
ME: You did not!
MOTHER: I did!
ME: You said Alan Jones. I said Alan Joyce. And you said, “Well, whatever the little Irishman is called.” And now you’re deliberately ret-conning this conversation while we’re still having it.
MOTHER: Yes, I am.

ME: I think I’ve hit rock bottom.
NICK: This song is definitely rock bottom.
ME: Was that necessary?
NICK: I thought you were setting that up.
ME: You thought I was setting up a slap at my own musical tastes?
NICK: Sometimes one does that, if one wants to be generous. Actually, this song isn’t that bad.
ME: Really?
NICK: No. I actually don’t like this song at all.

ME: I wonder why they didn’t use a picture of King Alfred burning the cakes.
NICK: When did King Arthur burn the cakes?
ME: Not Arthur. Alfred. Alfred the Great. He burned the old woman’s cakes. It’s basically his whole thing. Didn’t you know that?
NICK: I’ve never heard that before.
ME: You probably don’t even know which king died of a surfeit of lampreys.
NICK: A surfeit of what?
ME: In fact, you’ve probably never heard of Ethelred the Unready.
NICK: I have too!
ME: It’s a pun, you know.
NICK: Yes, you’ve told me that. Many times.
ME: Shut up.

NICK: I forgot to buy you more patches!
ME: I forgot, too! And I was at the shops and everything!
NICK: These are the sort of things I need to set as reminders on my phone.
ME: And what did you do instead?
NICK: I asked my phone why all the rum was gone.
ME: And what did your phone say?
NICK: It tried to direct me to a bottle shop.

NICK: I’ll have to try and upgrade you tonight.
ME: Darling, I have a headache.
NICK: That’s why you need an upgrade!

ME: Nick, what did we say about mocking my taste in music by singing along in a Dorset accent?
NICK: I just thought of a clever lyric!
ME: What did we say about it?
NICK: We said it was awesome and I should keep doing it?

ME: Honey, is it my imagination, or are we waging a secret and silent battle over who’s finally going to crack and take all these toilet rolls and empty toilet-paper packets out of the bathroom?
NICK: I’m assuming I’ve already won that battle.

ME: Don’t think there’s any chance of me being too cold to fall asleep tonight.
NICK: Hopefully not.
ME: Well, I was all right last night, once somebody got up and got me an extra blanket.
NICK: I’m sorry about that.
ME: No, you’re not.
NICK: I am too!
ME: At least now I know you wouldn’t jump in front of a bullet for me.
NICK: If I was awake I might!

NICK: I’m sorry. I was being hyperbolic.
ME: I’m not going to tell you again—hyperbole is exaggeration for comedic effect.
NICK: Well, I thought I was being funny.
ME: And I’m not going to tell you that again, either—it’s not funny unless everybody laughs.

ME: That’s why I drink so much.
NICK: Oh, Treena. You drink to forget.
ME: Forget what?
NICK: I don’t know. I’ve forgotten.
ME: So I drink, and you forget?
NICK: It seems to be working out so far.