“I read your blog today in my free period,” said Bee, as I prepared her a wholesome dinner of beans on toast. “It wasn’t that great. I don’t really like it when you try to be serious. No offence. Constructive criticism and all that.”
Indeed. Such tact and diplomacy these teenagers have.
“You just like it though when I write down funny things that you’ve said don’t you?” I replied.
“Well yeah, cos that’s the only bit that’s funny.”
I decide to call her bluff. “Go on then,” I challenge her, “say something funny.”
“Do you want to hear some dead baby jokes?”
“Well I can’t be funny like that just on the spot can I?” she flaps. “Urgh, OK, hang on, I know…”
There’s a long pause, while she straightens her face and composes herself, and then she whispers, “Boobies!”
“Oooh, oooh, I’ve got a joke!” she says. “What do you call a dog with no face?”
“I don’t know, what do you call a dog with no face?”
“Dog-not-face!” She collapses into hysterical giggles. “What do you call a cat with no face?”
“Cat-not-face?” I hazard a wild guess.
“Yes! How did you know?” She’s bent double now. I’m clearly missing something. “What do you call cheese with no face?”
“Normal cheese!” she says. “Cheese doesn’t have a face you know.”
“Well thank you darling, that was all wonderful,” I say. “I shall go and write it all down now before I forget, I’m sure it will be a big hit.”
“Will you call it ‘The one where Bee is hilarious’?” she shouts after me, as I disappear off to find my laptop.