No please. Anything but that...

It has been a long time since I endured the embarrassing fumbles and fondles of a girl who obviously thinks my jeans contain a magic lamp and has already prepared three wishes for the genie. One night stands, it seems, are a requirement, for a man to survive a lengthy period as a bachelor. But they do not prepare men for relationships or, more specifically, the corkscrew twist of a woman’s mind. It must be said that although a relationship means great, reliable and knowledgeable sex a man’s carnal desire is no match for a woman’s desire to turn every compliment into a full blown, plate throwing, argument.

The corny pick-up lines ‘you’re hair is beautiful’ or ‘your eyes sparkle like stars in the night sky’ that drew a smile at quarter to 3 on Saturday night are now greeted with ‘there’s no need to be sarcastic I know it’s greasy’ and ‘Sparkle? Just like that ring you bought me from Argos last week.’ Despite my rather rapid introduction to these sorts of come-backs at a young age, thanks to a now-seemingly unhealthy obsession with following one girlfriend with another, it still surprises me when I unwittingly stumble into one of these arguments. I’ve practically written the hand book on them and yet still they find me out.

Yesterday however my arguing history slumped to new depths. I’ve thrown things before sure. A pillow, a mug, a glass, a mobile phone – whatever’s at hand I’ve thrown it. Not at the face. Not even the body but somewhere close enough for them to close their lips for just a second. One second so I can actually get a word in before the whole thing spirals out of control. Deployed correctly the tactic of throwing an object can often draw a swift curtain across a shouting episode or even put a blockade in place so that all future hatred sharing ceases entirely.

However, yesterday I experienced something which needs no description other than the mention of the object in question. I threw a Scotch egg. Yes ladies and gentleman a scotch egg and not just any old Scotch egg. Oh no. This was a vegetarian Scotch egg. How macho is that? Even a pasty’s got more to it in the throwing stakes, even a cheese and onion slice would have sufficed but I had to choose the Scotch egg. And another thing – the woman behind the counter wasn’t best pleased either.