For some reason I had a variety of weird discussions at the lunch table this week. For example…
Table member: “I believe it’s true that MC Hammer had a distended rectum. And at some point it just gave out on him while he was on stage.”
Me: “Wow. So those trousers weren’t a fashion statement? They were a f*cking necessity!?”
And the following developed when I noticed that the hand of a friend had fully recovered from being badly blistered a couple of months back…
Me: “Your hands were really messed up beforehand.”
Table member: “Yes, that’s because I had to rescue a burning baby from a building!”
Table member #2: “…yes – and he had to throw the baby into a swimming pool full of petrol to put it out!”
That’s not really the kind of thing that makes lunch enjoyable. Memorable, but not enjoyable.
Maybe I should go back to my rule of going to the sandwich bar four times a week and eating at my desk? It’s not much cheaper, a lot less filling, and much less sociable, but it does kind of protect those with a fragile mind.