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Corona quarantine diary
Objavljivač niti: Mervyn Henderson

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Portugalija
Local time: 07:33
Član (2015)
engleski na portugalski
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A "creamy" mask Nov 9, 2020

Some time ago, on one of my train trips, an old man started talking to me about the Coronavirus.
"We're not used to these things, miss. For old people like me wearing this is like wearing a muzzle!"
So, he took out of a small suitcase a dirty and “creamy” mask.
"Do you see this? I went to a bakery earlier and bought a cake filled with cream.
I left and put the mask back on because we must wear it everywhere!
I was so worried about the mask and so distracted... a
... See more
Some time ago, on one of my train trips, an old man started talking to me about the Coronavirus.
"We're not used to these things, miss. For old people like me wearing this is like wearing a muzzle!"
So, he took out of a small suitcase a dirty and “creamy” mask.
"Do you see this? I went to a bakery earlier and bought a cake filled with cream.
I left and put the mask back on because we must wear it everywhere!
I was so worried about the mask and so distracted... and then all of a sudden, I took the cake and stuck it in the mask!"
I felt sorry for the old man, but I started to laugh.
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P.L.F.Persio
Mervyn Henderson
Chris S
Thomas T. Frost
Oksana Weiss
 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
Španija
Local time: 08:33
španski na engleski
+ ...
POKRETAČ TEME
Creamy masks? Nov 9, 2020

I think I know that man. He's the one who always takes the seat beside me when I take a train or a bus. It's like I have a sign hanging around my neck, saying "Disturbed? Seeing things? Hearing voices? Got an irrational conspiracy theory? General mental disorders? Sit right down. This is the place."

[Edited at 2020-11-09 12:20 GMT]


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Thomas T. Frost
P.L.F.Persio
Kevin Fulton
Oksana Weiss
 

Chris S  Identity Verified
Velika Britanija
švedski na engleski
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Ways to kill yourself Nov 9, 2020

Mervyn Henderson wrote:
Lucky Welsh. We have to wear ours all the time outside the confines of home. Except when you're eating or drinking something in a bar, but then there's none of that until the end of the month. And the last time I was in a bar I approached the counter to ask for something else after we'd ordered a few drinks with the masks on, but the man sent me straight back to my seat for the mask before I'd even got up close. And you're allowed to take off the mask when you're smoking, evidently, except you're not allowed to smoke near other people, gap of 2 metres required, I think it is. So you see a lot of people puffing on a ciggie, standing off the pavement between two parked cars.


Smoking, drinking, driving. All still acceptable yet all continuing to kill way more people than the virus. There’s something wrong with the world’s priorities...

My freedom was short-lived. As I rolled down the mountain tucked into the foetus position, my bike cartwheeling down ahead of me, I realised today was just not the day. Or was it just karma?


Thomas T. Frost
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Matthias Brombach
 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
Španija
Local time: 08:33
španski na engleski
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POKRETAČ TEME
Karma Nov 9, 2020

One of those darned karma potholes.

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Thomas T. Frost  Identity Verified
Član (2014)
danski na engleski
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Potholes Nov 9, 2020

Mervyn Henderson wrote:

One of those darned karma potholes.


Maybe he was potted.


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Mervyn Henderson
 

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Painting the town red Nov 9, 2020

"See how you like this, fascist" - that's what they daubed in Basque on a shop front with red paint in Amurrio (Álava province) at the weekend. Not just any old shop front, though. The place belongs to the family of the leader of Vox, Spain's alt-right party. Santiago Abascal and his family have had all kinds of problems like that down through the years here. I have to hand it to the guy, rather grudgingly, because it's one thing being from Madrid or somewhere, being ultra-right wing, and shout... See more
"See how you like this, fascist" - that's what they daubed in Basque on a shop front with red paint in Amurrio (Álava province) at the weekend. Not just any old shop front, though. The place belongs to the family of the leader of Vox, Spain's alt-right party. Santiago Abascal and his family have had all kinds of problems like that down through the years here. I have to hand it to the guy, rather grudgingly, because it's one thing being from Madrid or somewhere, being ultra-right wing, and shouting about it down in Madrid, but quite another thing being from this part of the country, being ultra-right wing, and shouting about it, either here or in Madrid. "Hooded rats," he called the perpetrators.

Tradition has it that this kind of thing would be unanimously condemned by all parties except the hardline Basque nationalists (now called "Bildu", but they've gone through at least a dozen name changes over the years, at least once to get around a ban on their activities). This time it was also condemned by all parties except one, but the exception wasn't Bildu this time, it was radicalish left Podemos, which cosies up in Pedro Sánchez's government with a few ministries. Which is at least odd, I reckon.

[Edited at 2020-11-09 19:39 GMT]
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P.L.F.Persio
 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
Španija
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španski na engleski
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Surprise in a drawer at the White House? Nov 10, 2020

In another life I worked on a hotel in Barcelona. Well, it was in the hotel, but more on it than in it, because it was being built at the time. The Hotel Arts down near the sea, with all those X shapes on the facade, except I think it's called something else now. I was in charge of carpentering door thresholds between floors 42 and 48, I think it was. Later on they gave me the job of checking that all the items that were supposed to be in the room were actually in the room, like door knobs, all ... See more
In another life I worked on a hotel in Barcelona. Well, it was in the hotel, but more on it than in it, because it was being built at the time. The Hotel Arts down near the sea, with all those X shapes on the facade, except I think it's called something else now. I was in charge of carpentering door thresholds between floors 42 and 48, I think it was. Later on they gave me the job of checking that all the items that were supposed to be in the room were actually in the room, like door knobs, all drawers fitted, space for minibar etc. There were hundreds of people working on it, locals and also English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh, flown in for six months from building sites all over the British Isles. Some of them, no, most of them, were rather naughty boys. One or two regularly failed to turn up for work because they'd got themselves arrested the night before. They were mostly raucous and irreverent, and took substances various. Orders were noted down by an enterprising young chap in the lifts during the morning shift, whereupon he left site for the rest of the day, and little packages were distributed at clocking-off time when he came back. It was hardly surprising, then, that I would occasionally find "presents" on my inspection round, left in drawers by people who had built the cupboards and whatnot. Some said it was because all the toilets weren't yet operational, and so people just used the drawers instead of making the journey three or four floors down, but I reckon leaving a turd in a drawer was just bloodymindedness. I wonder will Donald leave any surprises for the Bidens?

Tomorrow my membership runs out. I'm not sure what will happen. Does my icon stay there, stripped of its blue ribbon? Or do I disappear, and then have to apply to be a non-member? I'll have to wait and see.

[Edited at 2020-11-10 11:00 GMT]
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Thomas T. Frost
P.L.F.Persio
Chris S
 

Thomas T. Frost  Identity Verified
Član (2014)
danski na engleski
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Knobs Nov 10, 2020

Mervyn Henderson wrote:

Later on they gave me the job of checking that all the items that were supposed to be in the room were actually in the room, like door knobs, all drawers fitted, space for minibar etc.


I hope you weren't required to check the presence or state of other types of knobs.

Mervyn Henderson wrote:
I wonder will Donald leave any surprises for the Bidens?


Who knows what really goes on behind closed doors? I was quite stunned by reading the following yesterday:

‘When the Clintons left the White House, by the way, they walked out with several items of furniture that they later had to return and the staff committed numerous acts of vandalism. They smeared glue on desk drawers, left obscene voicemail messages and around $5,000 (£3,800) had to be spent replacing computer keyboards. They had torn out the “W”s.’

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2020/11/09/trump-louder-cruder-version-america/


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Mervyn Henderson
 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
Španija
Local time: 08:33
španski na engleski
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Glue Nov 10, 2020

I heard something about glue and messages, but I thought that was when the Bush contingent was leaving. Revenge? Maybe it's just a White House tradition.

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P.L.F.Persio  Identity Verified
Holandija
Local time: 08:33
Član (2010)
engleski na italijanski
+ ...
Proustian, but not a madeleine Nov 10, 2020

Mervyn Henderson wrote:

It was hardly surprising, then, that I would occasionally find "presents" on my inspection round, left in drawers by people who had built the cupboards and whatnot. Some said it was because all the toilets weren't yet operational, and so people just used the drawers instead of making the journey three or four floors down, but I reckon leaving a turd in a drawer was just bloodymindedness.


[Edited at 2020-11-10 11:00 GMT]


Perhaps, they were quoting La Recherche:
Vous savez, Monsieur, c'est une grande dame que ma soeur. [...] Elle a beaucoup d'esprit. Elle ne quitte jamais un hôtel sans se soulager dans une armoire, une commode, pour laisser un petit souvenir à la femme de chambre qui aura à nettoyer. Quelquefois même dans une voiture, elle fait ça, et après avoir payé sa course, se cache dans un coin, histoire de rire en voyant rouspéter le cocher qui a à relaver sa voiture. [...] merci Monsieur. Si tout le monde avait aussi bon cœur que vous il n'y aurait plus de malheureux. Mais comme dit ma sœur, il faudra toujours qu'il y en ait pour que maintenant que je suis riche, je puisse un peu les emmerder.

In my misspent youth, I happened to work as a femme de chambre in a low-budget hotel. Luckily for me, I've never found those petit souvenirs, but I saw once that our boss used to store the cleaned and ironed sheets in a utility room, next to a slicer covered in what looked like tiny scraps of ham.
And we had just one hoover for all of the 4 floors. Happy days!


Mervyn Henderson
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Thomas T. Frost
Chris S
 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
Španija
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Class act Nov 10, 2020

I had no idea Prousty was such a hoot! Definitely one for the reading list. I can just see the sister standing there at the door about to open it and leave her hotel room, bag in hand, and then saying to herself, Ah zut, j'oubliais mon souvenir, dropping the bag, and walking over to the wardrobe while fumbling with her petticoat.

P.L.F.Persio
expressisverbis
Chris S
 

Thomas T. Frost  Identity Verified
Član (2014)
danski na engleski
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Down and out in Paris and London Nov 10, 2020

P.L.F.Persio wrote:

Mervyn Henderson wrote:

It was hardly surprising, then, that I would occasionally find "presents" on my inspection round, left in drawers by people who had built the cupboards and whatnot. Some said it was because all the toilets weren't yet operational, and so people just used the drawers instead of making the journey three or four floors down, but I reckon leaving a turd in a drawer was just bloodymindedness.


Perhaps, they were quoting La Recherche:
Vous savez, Monsieur, c'est une grande dame que ma soeur. [...] Elle a beaucoup d'esprit. Elle ne quitte jamais un hôtel sans se soulager dans une armoire, une commode, pour laisser un petit souvenir à la femme de chambre qui aura à nettoyer. Quelquefois même dans une voiture, elle fait ça, et après avoir payé sa course, se cache dans un coin, histoire de rire en voyant rouspéter le cocher qui a à relaver sa voiture. [...] merci Monsieur. Si tout le monde avait aussi bon cœur que vous il n'y aurait plus de malheureux. Mais comme dit ma sœur, il faudra toujours qu'il y en ait pour que maintenant que je suis riche, je puisse un peu les emmerder.

In my misspent youth, I happened to work as a femme de chambre in a low-budget hotel. Luckily for me, I've never found those petit souvenirs, but I saw once that our boss used to store the cleaned and ironed sheets in a utility room, next to a slicer covered in what looked like tiny scraps of ham.
And we had just one hoover for all of the 4 floors. Happy days!


Reminds me of Down and out in Paris and London by George Orwell:

'Apart from the dirt, the patron swindled the customers wholeheartedly. For the most part the materials of the food were very bad, though the cooks knew how to serve it up in style. The meat was at best ordinary, and as to the vegetables, no good housekeeper would have looked at them in the market. The cream, by a standing order, was diluted with milk. The tea and coffee were of inferior sorts, and the jam was synthetic stuff out of vast, unlabelled tins. All the cheaper wines, according to Boris, were corked vin ordinaire. There was a rule that employees must pay for anything they spoiled, and in consequence damaged things were seldom thrown away. Once the waiter on the third floor dropped a roast chicken down the shaft of our service lift, where it fell into a litter of broken bread, torn paper and so forth at the bottom. We simply wiped it with a cloth and sent it up again. Upstairs there were dirty tales of once-used sheets not being washed, but simply damped, ironed and put back on the beds. The patron was as mean to us as to the customers. Throughout the vast hotel there was not, for instance, such a thing as a brush and pan; one had to manage with a broom and a piece of cardboard. And the staff lavatory was worthy of Central Asia, and there was no place to wash one's hands, except the sinks used for washing crockery.'

[Edited at 2020-11-10 14:42 GMT]


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Mervyn Henderson
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Španija
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Addendum to "Painting the town red" Nov 10, 2020

I don't know why I'm doing this, but I just feel I should. Above I mentioned here yesterday that Podemos hadn't condemned the paint attack, but they did later on, just for the record. I very much doubt it's because they read what I said here, but you never know.



[Edited at 2020-11-10 17:51 GMT]


P.L.F.Persio
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Quarantine in quarantine Nov 12, 2020

Hmm, I don't know, looks a bit Italian, that title, maybe? Or at least Latinish. Could be taken as some kind of maxim. Might have to change that at the end ...

...

... Oh, there you are, sorry, dreadfully sorry, hadn't even noticed, I was miles away. So hello, and welcome back to the thread that rarely shuts its mouth, but has been a bit dormant of late ... just sitting here musing on things after a hard day's night and a hard day's day, too.

What I meant
... See more
Hmm, I don't know, looks a bit Italian, that title, maybe? Or at least Latinish. Could be taken as some kind of maxim. Might have to change that at the end ...

...

... Oh, there you are, sorry, dreadfully sorry, hadn't even noticed, I was miles away. So hello, and welcome back to the thread that rarely shuts its mouth, but has been a bit dormant of late ... just sitting here musing on things after a hard day's night and a hard day's day, too.

What I meant by the title is the headline in El Correo today, because a hospital down the whack a bit on the coast in Gorliz has been put in quarantine with all the quarantinees. 38 employees and 20% of the patients. El Correo still hasn't published my damning letter, meanwhile. No matter - I'm used to being shunned. I came back from school once, and found my family had moved. What can you do? You just shrug and get on with it, doncha?

But "Quarantine in quarantine", now that's something you don't read every day. "A turn-up for the books," as Henry Kissinger said to Richard Nixon when the Prezzie told him he had decided to use napalm on the Vietcong. "A burn-up for the Gooks, more like," Nixon reportedly replied over a few glasses of Jack Daniel's.

I put that "reportedly" in just to cover myself, you understand, but I remember the Man in the Pub told me so a long time ago, and I had no earthly reason to doubt him, especially after ten pints of John Smith's. The Man in the Pub had had a few, too. I don't remember much else about that session, but I do recall that when he went to the bar for another round, he pointed at my glass and said, "Is that John Smith's?", and I said "No, it bloody isn't, it's mine, Man in the Pub". Yes, I must say I'm a bit worried about my memory. I'm taking pills for it, though. And they certainly sort out a lot of other problems too, except I can't remember what they are just now.

But I digress. Well, actually, I don't. That's all I have to say. Just checking in, touching base, you know. Ooops. I can definitely expect a tominlondoning for that one. But hopefully it'll be a friendly one. A Level 1, perhaps.

Have a pleasant evening, y'all!! Oops again. Now that might be ratcheted up to Level 2 ...



[Edited at 2020-11-12 18:58 GMT]

[Edited at 2020-11-12 19:02 GMT]

[Edited at 2020-11-13 05:57 GMT]
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Chris S
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Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
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Never give a sucker an even break Nov 13, 2020

Well, you know the setup, so let’s just go straight ahead with the intro:

I’d had a tough day etc. etc. etc., just about to go to bed etc. etc. etc., when suddenly the phone rang:

“Is this Henderson? Yeah, Henderson, let’s see, erm, Mervyn Henderson?” said a rather grand American voice. Could have been Offalskoffer or Offalburger again, or whatever his name was, but it did sound a little different. A bit too grand. Too lofty ...

“Well, it might
... See more
Well, you know the setup, so let’s just go straight ahead with the intro:

I’d had a tough day etc. etc. etc., just about to go to bed etc. etc. etc., when suddenly the phone rang:

“Is this Henderson? Yeah, Henderson, let’s see, erm, Mervyn Henderson?” said a rather grand American voice. Could have been Offalskoffer or Offalburger again, or whatever his name was, but it did sound a little different. A bit too grand. Too lofty ...

“Well, it might be,” I said. “And you are, mm …?”

“This is Joseph Robinette Biden Jr, President-Elect, calling you from this great state of Delaware, USA.”

This had to be Offalwoffler playing a trick on me. Although he hadn’t struck me as a funny guy.

“Sure it is,” I yawned. “Well, you’ve got the wrong number, because you’ve actually called the residence of Skippy the Bush Kangaroo in this great state of Victoria, Australia. Skippy’s not here at the moment, though. She’s just hopped off to forage for some vegetation and fungi.”

“What? Skippy? Kangaroos? No, I really am Joe Biden. I see you’ve been in contact with the disgraced, disgraceful outgoing president, and I see some papers here about you, Henderson. Something about that aberration of a wall with Mexico, among other things, consultancy work with the White House ...”

Well, that got my attention, as you can imagine. I sat bolt upright. “Oh yes, Mr Biden, that’s me all right. I’m dreadfully sorry, I was only joking about Skippy, you see, Mr Trump said …”

But he didn’t pay much attention to that, and just ploughed on regardless:

“… well, I’m sorry to tell you, fellow, I don’t give a damn what that thoroughly evil man Trump promised you or what he didn’t. He’s already spent four years tearing this country apart, but that’s all over now. In a couple of months I’m going to be in charge around here, and so there isn’t going to be any wall to prevent all those hardworking Mexicans and other Latinos to come and join their Dreamer brothers and sisters right here in the Land of Opportunity. And there aren’t going to be any translations, or any vile, despicable un-American cooperation with you at all by a Democrat administration, Henderson. I just wanted to make that clear ...”

Do you know, I didn’t much like this man’s tone.

“Of course, of course,” I said slowly. “I understand. It was just that …”

Definitely not a listener, Joe Biden …

“ … I’m serious about this, pal. We’re moving forward now, not back. My government will be looking forward to the future, and not back at the past, with the honest, hardworking people of the United States working as one to make America … er …”

“ … ‘make America great again’?” I suggested. “That one’s been said, you know. Quite a lot. In the past, of course. In that past your new administration won’t be looking back at.”

He snorted. Quite a nasty snort, too, as snorts go. Snorts aren’t usually very pleasant, but this one was definitely unpleasant:

“Well, you know what I mean. I can see you’re on his side all right. I don’t know what Trump was thinking about, drafting in a two-bit … I mean, an uppit … I mean, an … Irishman to work for the US government. Not that I have anything against the Irish, you understand. I have Irish blood myself. You should know my mother was Irish, a Finnegan. But enough of all that. Consider yourself terminated workwise, Henderson. As Donald himself might have said, ‘You’re fired.’”

Oh dear. Now that wasn’t necessary, was it? … I toyed with a little device on my desk.

“There’s no problem, Mr Biden,” I said, in a tiny little voice. “It was only because Mr Trump suggested it, and I writed him to say I’d be glad to …”

I could hear the surprise in his voice. “Writed? You can’t say writed. It’s “wrote”, Henderson, “wrote”.”

Then he laughed. I must say, if I didn’t like his tone, I certainly wasn’t keen on his laugh either:

“Actually, Mr Henderson, I’m rather taken aback here, yes sir. You’re a translator, right? A man of words. A man of letters. Yet you appear to be unaware of basic English grammar. But I suppose it’s typical of Trump to surround himself with incompetents!” He laughed again. Except this time he laughed much, much louder and much, much longer.


And that was Joe Biden’s big mistake.


“Mr Biden,” I said, very calmly. “I can see this amuses you hugely, but I stand by what I said. Of course it’s possible to say writed.”

“Sure, you can say it, fellow, you can say it all day long if you like, but that doesn’t make it grammatically correct.”

He cackled again. You know, I was getting more than a little tired of the Joe Biden cackle, so I thought I’d cut to the chase.

“Are you a betting man, Mr Biden? Because I’m willing to bet that I can say “writed”, totally correct grammar-wise, with an example to prove it. Several examples. Any amount of them. A shedload.”

He stopped laughing. “Well, no, I couldn’t, no, I don’t, and I can’t. I’m the President-Elect, for crying out loud.”

“Well, I understand, if you’re scared,” I said, “and not willing to put your money where your …”

“Scared, fellow? Scared? Me, scared? Joe Biden’s not scared of anyone. I’ll … I’ll bet you ten dollars, yes, ten US dollars.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Ten? A whole ten dollars? The big new noise in Washington, Joe Biden, is willing to bet ten dollars on an absolute certainty. Or so he says. Why not a little more? Seeing as you’re so sure of yourself. After all, how can you lose? How about a hundred …?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I … I …”

I’d definitely got him rattled. Maybe I could rattle him a little more:

“By the way, Mr Biden, you’re coming through loud and clear there. That asthma of yours seems to have cleared up nicely.”

“Asthma? What asthma?”

“Your asthma, Mr Biden. The asthma that took you out of the draft. On top of all those study deferrals before that, I mean. The asthma that made you unfit for military service. That must have been a huge blow to you, not being able to go to Nam. Along with the rest of the heroes, to get cut to pieces by machine-gun fire from foxholes full of Charlies in the killing fields.”

Well, that certainly hit the spot.

“You, you … how dare you, pal? What are you insinuating, you …”

“Insinuating? Why, nothing, Mr Biden, I just meant …”

“Sure, one hundred dollars it is,” he cut in.

“Yes, but you didn’t actually let me finish earlier,” I replied. “What I meant was one hundred thousand.”

“A hundred thousand dollars? Are you crazy? I don’t have that kind of money, kid. How am I supposed …”

“Oh come now, Mr Biden. You’re the President-Elect. There must be somewhere you can get it from. The allowance for secretaries and chauffeurs and meals on wheels and gophers and lackeys and, er, entertainment, let’s say. Or the BLM fund, maybe.” Now that was guaranteed to annoy him bigly, as his predecessor would have said. “You just take it out and put it back later, and nobody knows any different. Like bank managers used to do before they put in all those bothersome controls and red flags after 9/11. When they were on a sure thing, that is. Like you are. Like you say you are. Because you are on a sure thing, aren’t you, Mr Biden? I mean, you sounded pretty sure just now.”

He wasn’t even attempting to conceal his irritation any more.

“OK, one hundred grand. One hundred grand to wup your sorry ass, Henderson.”

“Mr Biden,” I said very slowly, “anyone willing to bet one hundred thousand dollars … would surely bet five hundred thousand dollars. Or even a million. So how about a million dollars, Mr Biden? One million of your very best, crisp, freshly printed US greenbacks. On a sure bet.”

“Anyone willing to bet a hundred grand would bet … I don’t see the logic of that, Henderson [neither did I, to tell you the truth, but I thought I’d throw it in anyway], but sure, a million, one million dollars. I’ll, erm, I’ll get it from … from somewhere.”

“OK, but let’s be quite sure of this bet, Mr Biden. The bet is that it’s possible to say I writed, quite grammatically, and I’ll give you an example, or two or three if you like. You have to be willing to take my word on this bet, Mr Biden, just as I’m willing to take yours. After all,” I added gently, “if I can’t trust the next President of the United States of America, who CAN I trust?”

“Sure. So let’s get it over with, Henderson. Show me your cards, boy.” Another nasty laugh, but it had lost oh so much of that triumphant, arrogant edge.

Show was right. It was show time:

“Here’s the example, Mr Biden.” I cleared my throat, and paused for effect. I could hear him breathing nervously down the line. And he was right to be nervous.

“This is the sentence”, I went on: “I did some terrible things in my life, but I righted all my wrongs. I righted. See?”

“What? Righted? But … that’s a totally different verb, Henderson,” he spluttered. “It doesn’t mean the same thing at all. And it’s spelt differently. How can you … it’s …”

“Who said anything about spelling, Mr Biden? You want to make the rules up as you go along, like the guy you’ve just replaced? The bet was you can say the word grammatically. Like I just did. I’ll send you my bank account details, and an invoice for services rendered. You owe me one million dollars. Hell, I might just fly over there and pick it up in person. And don’t even think about reneging on it, Mr Biden, because …”

Here I rewound my little old-fashioned recording device, hit Play, and held it to the mobile. Joe Biden’s voice rang out loud and clear: “Writed? You can’t say writed. It’s “wrote”, Henderson, “wrote”.

I switched it off.

“… because if you do, Mr Biden, I’ll make sure everyone knows Joe Biden’s word isn’t worth the paper it’s writed on. Oh, and another thing. It’s not “boy”, “kid”, “fellow”, “pal”, or even “Henderson”. It’s MR Henderson to you, Mr Biden.”

“But, but, that’s a trick, that’s not fair. That’s not playing fair, you cheated me.”

“Sure I did, Joe. It’s a tough, dirty world, and you’re a world leader. Call it a learning curve for when you have to go and play ball with all the unfair, tricky, cheating Putins and Kim Yong Uns out there. Now you go back home and laugh that one off with Jill. I can just see her standing there, saying “WTF? A million dollars? You just lost us a million dollars? Say it ain’t so, Joe!”

“So long, Mr Biden!”

I wandered into the lounge. “Hey, Basques, guess what?” I said. “I’m taking the day off tomorrow. Matter of fact, I’m taking the week off. And the month. Maybe even the year. So how about a little trip? I hear Delaware’s a great spot this time of year.”




[Edited at 2020-11-13 11:04 GMT]

[Edited at 2020-11-13 11:15 GMT]

[Edited at 2020-11-13 11:17 GMT]

[Edited at 2020-11-13 11:50 GMT]

[Edited at 2020-11-13 15:56 GMT]
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Chris S
P.L.F.Persio
Beatriz Ramírez de Haro
 
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