Lastnight the Football Fanatic had a night out.
On a party bus.
I once saw a television programme about a party bus, and given that her usual idea of a good night out is the high stakes table at the most upmarket casino in town, I didn't think she'd like it.
But what do I know?
At some point during the evening we had a text conversation:
FF: It's full of really old people and they're playing the Grease Megamix.
Kill me now x x
Me: You're the one that I want, you are the one I want, ooh ooh ooh honey...
FF: Leave me alone x x
Me: Go Greased Lightning you're burning up the quarter mile....
FF: When we pass the canal I may jump in x x
Me: Oh, come on, you know you want to play
FF: There are worse things I could do than go with a boy or two...x x
Me: NOT IN MY BOOK LADY!
FF: Ha! Thought that would shut you up! x x
Yet even though the evening was considered a total loss, I was quite pleased to note that she appears to have mastered the art of the put-down.
After politely discouraging the advances of a REALLY REALLY old man (about 45) who asked:
'So I haven't got a chance then?'
The Football Fanatic replied;
'Mate, you've got more chance of City winning the Champions League'.
I swear I have no idea where she learns it.