Way back in the summer of 2008 I wrote a post about the world’s most difficult question. That question was:
“How do I look in this?”
I answered incorrectly – totally and utterly incorrectly. My answer was so wrong that I still bear the scars. You can read about it here.
There are no questions more difficult than that – or so I thought.
A week or two ago, Mrs PM shocked me with a question that was even worse.
Picture the scene. It is a Friday night and, for once, I am not on call, which means that Mrs PM and I can venture to Didsbury Village for a pint or two. I am relaxed and chatting with her and enjoying watching the other patrons, laughing and unwinding after a week work.
Mrs PM turns to me and asks what has now become the world’s most difficult question.
“What do you think of those three young women over there?”
I thought she was joking.
“What women?” I asked.
“Those three women – DON’T LOOK!”
But I did look, dear reader, and saw three young, attractive and very fashionable young ladies, chatting away and looking around at the other people in the pub. One of them looked me straight in the eye and I quickly turned back to Mrs PM who was glaring at me.
“I told you NOT to look.”
“I had to look,” I replied. “I haven’t got eyes in the back of my head you know. And even if I DID have eyes in the back of my head, I wouldn’t be able to see anything through the bloody mop that lives on my skull.”
“Well, now that they KNOW we’re talking about them, you may as well tell me what you think of them,” she replied, refusing to let the subject go.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what she expected me to say.
Was this a test?
I had made matters worse by openly turning around to stare at three young women who would undoubtedly wander over and say:
“What the bloody hell are you staring you dirty old git?”
I swallowed and smiled, waiting for the inevitable tap on the shoulder.
“Well?” said Mrs PM.
“Are they coming over?” I asked.
“Why would they do that?” she asked.
“No reason,” I replied, feeling mildly relieved.
“Anyway, what shall we do tomorrow?” I asked trying to change the subject.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “Can’t you answer a simple question?”
“Why do you want to know?” I countered.
“I want to know what you think of the clothes they’re wearing,” she asked. “Do you like them?”
“OOOOOHHHHH!!!!!” I said, feeling slightly relieved. “I thought … er never mind what I thought.”
The bottom line was that Mrs PM was considering buying a couple of items of clothing that the three ladies were wearing and she wanted my opinion, as a man, about whether they would suit her. That in itself is a difficult enough subject to contemplate but much better to negotiate than to comment on the appearance of a woman within ogling distance.
I had once stupidly been savaged by a very angry Mrs PM in a noisy pub for blurting arguably the most stupid and potentially fatal comment that has ever managed to make it from my brain to the outside world.
If I have told you about this before, I apologise. If not, enjoy my stupidity.
We were in another crowded and very noisy pub in Didsbury and I hated it. The music was loud and I could barely hear myself think. What’s more, the music was utterly dreadful.
“I HATE IT HERE,” I shouted at Mrs PM as she was chatting with friends. “IT’S TOO NOISY!”
“I LOVE IT,” she replied – and so did our friends. That’s when it happened. That’s when my brain expelled a totally idiotic thought in the general direction of my loud gob. The beer I had consumed shutdown my mental firewall and let the thought escape – straight into Mrs PM’s ear via my stupid mouth.
“THERE IS ONE GOOD THING ABOUT THIS PLACE!” I shouted.
“WHAT'S THAT?” she replied.
I was dragged out of there before I could say “What’s the matter?” and I spent the next two weeks apologising. My claims of “It was a joke!” fell on deaf ears.
Back to the difficult question about the three women – this time, I managed to survive the incident unscathed. I managed to say the following (with my thoughts in red –thoughts that thankfully I didn’t utter).
“I like the colour coordination of the (shapely) blond and her dress really suits her (curvaceous) figure. The short skirt is possibly a little too short (though she has very nice legs) and the top is nice (but given the size of her chest she should DEFINITELY DEFINITELY show MUCH MORE cleavage). I like the outfit of the third (very, very, very pretty) girl and I think the boots she is wearing make her look taller (and MUCH MUCH sexier).”
I got away with it (unlike the previous difficult question).
I’m getting good at this.
Hang on a minute – Mrs PM reads this blog doesn’t she?