I'm thinking of having a tattoo. It'll be in big letters on my forehead, and it'll say 'DON'T SELL THIS MAN ANYTHING THAT NEEDS TO BE HOME-ASSEMBLED'.
Lady Magnon has this crazy idea that she can beat me at Ping Pong (table tennis), so to prove the point she's bought a new table and is taunting me with puerile jests.
Her first ploy, however, was to make me angry, and what better way than by buying a bloody table that comes in bloody BITS. She knows what affect this has on my otherwise placid nature, and sees this as part of her pre-victory plans.
Much sweat has been shed, expletives have been bandied, and bits put-on upside down. What should have taken ten minutes has taken a whole bloody day (when doesn't it?), and I'm in a pretty foul mood.
I shall now wait until I'm feeling a bit more relaxed before giving her a damn good bloody Ping Pong thrashing.
N.B. And don't even ask about the delivery of the wretched 100 kg (yes, 100 kg) 'package'. That's another whole bloody story which raised my blood pressure beyond previously known heights. .