Ted called me some names today that were so horrendous I would not dare to write them out in this blogsphere, even if I asterisked half the letters. He really went to town on me, drawing on all his experience of a youth spent in the military, and using phrases that would not have been out of place in a banned movie.
What did I do that so horribly turned his speech blue?
I telephoned him for a chat in the middle of an FA Cup game between Cardiff and Leeds United.
That was it.
I did not threaten his family, or break his windows, or accuse him of war crimes, I just happened to pick a time to contact him that interrupted him watching a football game.
Now, it's not my favourite sport, as you know, but I do know a little bit about when the fixtures are played and when they're scheduled on TV, and I thought I'd be safe at 2.30pm on a Sunday. But no...
After cheerily taking his first onslaught of abuse, I did try and diffuse the situation a bit by chipping in with "Bloody Hell, didn't you have enough of soccer with the World Cup on telly before Christmas?" And then after being compared to various ocean-dwelling parasites and having my parentage questioned profusely, I said "It's only a minor cup game. I'm sure you can miss a few minutes for a chat," and that's when his blood really seemed to boil. I was called insensitive, stupid, thick, twisted, fascist, bilious, unfit, unfit for classification as a human, and a word beginning with 'C' that I assure you I would never use myself.
To be fair, I had deliberately stoked the fire a bit by calling it 'soccer' and by belittling the importance of the FA Cup, because I had remembered this time last year when Ted and his son Alan had enjoyed a heated back-and-forth about just that subject, but still... It's good to keep things in perspective, and I can't help thinking he overreacted.
I hung up the phone with a smile, and now I am expecting a message from Beryl admonishing me for spiking his blood pressure.
RC 8-1-23
No comments:
Post a Comment