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There’s a Rat in the . . .

August 24, 2009

21st Oct 2006

This look like a rat to you ? No? Nor me either !!!

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Mrs D’s in a foul mood. And it’s all my fault. She caught me being ‘economical with the truth’. Or, as she put it ‘
Your a f*cken lying bastard!!!

Mrs D had bought a very (!) expensive new carpet for our bathroom. She then spent several hours on her hands and knees fitting it while I offered sage advice now and then as I passed from living room to kitchen to refill my glass.

Now, before all you feminists get your knickers in a twist about me leaving Mrs D to fit the carpet on her own, let me explain. I encourage Mrs D to do ALL the DIY jobs around the house herself because I love her so much!

(Statistics show that married women live longer than married men. It is likely then that I am going to die before Mrs D. So, to prepare her for a lifetime without me, I am ‘training’ her now in all these skills that will stand her in good stead when she is on her own!)

Job complete, Mrs D was justifiably proud of her handwork. I congratulated her. And then disaster struck . . .

When I returned from work on Monday night, the carpet was in ruins. It had been lifted away from the walls and pulled this way and that. It was crumpled here and crumpled there. In many places the woven tufts had been pulled out. I did my best to repair the damage. I straightened the carpet. Relaid it. Removed the woven tufts that had been pulled out. It was no good. Mrs D couldn’t help but notice the damage. At this point I did what any sensible man would do in this situation. I shut the bathroom door and went round to the pub.

When I returned home a couple of hours later .. now suitably fortified to face Mrs D’s wrath .. she grabbed me by the arm and led me straight to the bathroom –

Look at the f*cken state of this carpet!

I agreed it was not looking its best.

F*cken Rat! F*cken, bastard Rat!

(Now I know what you’re thinking. And, your right. I really must reprimand her about her language. But she was under stress, and I was ‘under the influence’ and I let the moment pass.)

During my absence, Mrs D had been thinking. And her thinking had led her to the conclusion that a rat had gained entry to our bathroom and savaged her carpet .. (Don’t ask me to explain her reasoning!)

I pointed out the bathroom had a concrete floor. How had the rascally rodent gained entry. And why would a rat want to come into our house. Admittedly our dogs can be a bit dozy, but surely they would notice a rat wandering about the house and give chase?

All right, smart arse‘, said Mrs D ‘If it wasn’t a rat, what was it?

This was the pivotal moment. This was when I should have confessed. Instead, I lied. The 5 pints of bitter and 2 double whiskies I’d drunk in the pub gave me inspiration.

Spiders? = I suggested.

How the f*ck could spiders wreak such damage? replied Mrs D.

I pointed out that spiders were fearsome creatures and could grow to an almighty size.

Bollocks! said Mrs D.

While you were sat on your arse supping pints‘, she said. ‘I’ve been on the internet. They can come up through the toilet.

‘Ah‘, I said. I was wondering about the two house bricks on top of the toilet seat!

For the rest of the week, Mrs D was in a semi-constipated state – doing her No 1s from a semi-squatting position, one leg either side of the toilet, watching between her legs for any sign of a furry face, and saving her No 2s for work.

I had been lucky so far. She had not suspected the part I played in the destruction of her carpet. It was too good to last. All hell broke loose when she discovered the truth on Wednesday night.

We came home from work together to find pieces of dog bedding strewn all over the kitchen floor.

She’s coming into season, said Mrs D as I started to clear up the mess. ‘She’s trying to make herself a ‘nest’. You’ll have to confine her to the kitchen. If she’s coming into season, I’m not having her wandering through the house making a mess on the carpets…

At this point a light dawned on Mrs D and she looked at me with suspicion.

‘It was her wasn’t it. She’s the one that ruined the carpet. There was no rat. But . . .

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to work out how a dog had opened the door from the kitchen to the hallway. Then opened the door to the bathroom, ‘savaged’ the carpet, then retreated back to her bed closing the bathroom, and kitchen doors behind her.

It was the moment I had been dreading. The moment of truth had arrived.

I confessed I had left the house in a rush on Monday morning and forgot to shut the dogs in the kitchen. I had then tried to conceal the evidence of my ‘crime’ by shutting the doors ‘after the event’ and pretending to arrive home after Mrs D. You can imagine the consequences that followed this admission.

Mrs D has been giving me the ‘silent treatment’ ever since!

I read recently that chocolate has aphrodisiac properties. I have bought Mrs D a large box of Ferrero Roche, therefore, in an attempt to ‘melt’ her frosty exterior.

P.S. Anyone want to buy an ultrasonic rat repeller. Arrived through the post yesterday morning. Ordered by Mrs D online on Monday night. Brand New. Never Used. No longer Required!

10 Comments leave one →
  1. August 24, 2009 7:39 am

    Smashing tale…

  2. August 25, 2009 11:36 pm

    Ferrero Rocher are not going to suffice. You’re going to have to go for something posher (M&S own brand may do).

    Tell Mrs D you have done her a favour – carpets in the bathroom never work. Especially if there’s a drunken man in the house…

  3. October 21, 2013 9:23 pm

    Oh Duncan this has done the job of cheering me up brilliantly. I don’t often laugh out loud reading but I loved this. Thanks a million, your a star.And chocolates would definitely not have done it for me! 🙂

    • October 22, 2013 8:14 am

      everything (or nearly everything) in this diary type blog is true or based on something that really happened – just embroidered to some extent for comedic effect 😆

  4. October 22, 2013 8:13 am

    I’m working out how to do number twos from a standing position. Alright, go on, laugh – you women have got nothing to worry about, but the uncomfortable truth for us blokes, is than when sitting down, we dangle.
    This is NOT funny.

  5. January 6, 2016 7:31 am

    Holy crap, that was funny! And you’re such a good writer. Who knew to look at you? Just kidding. Well done.

    • January 6, 2016 7:59 am

      thanks for the compliment

      I enjoy writing but have not really done any since Anita died (madhatters doesn’t count – that’s just quick thoughts on news items that catch my eye before going to work]

      with retirement getting ever closer though, and having more ‘free’ time then than I do at present, writing is one of the things I’m hoping to pick up again soon

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