The Big Night

I was assisting Trevor in a fitting for a white formal shirt attached to boxer shorts. Supposedly, these are designed so that the shirt doesn’t ride up making one look untidy over an evening. It’s the sort of thing that the male dancers on Strictly* wear, I am told. I didn’t quite understand why moral support was needed for this fitting, but then yards of piqué cotton tugging at your nether region might be a bit disconcerting. At least for the first time.

I then rang Fiona as requested. After a bit she answered.

“Who is this?” she said in a disguised voice, but I knew it was her.

“It’s Kip about your to-do list”.

There was a deep sigh from the other end.
“Oh! We’re under high security alert and have been told to be particularly careful on the telephone!”

“I’m sorry to hear that”.

She was often overly dramatic, sometimes without reason.

I tried to calm the situation. “I have completed all the tasks on the to-do list that you gave me”.

Fiona loved to-do lists almost as much as she loved talking on the phone. I dislike both. She wasn’t going to let me off lightly this time though.

 “Oh, you’re a star!” “What a champion!” “You make us so proud!” She gushed these phrases, which she was known to use frequently, like verbal hashtags.

I escaped further conversation (and the next to-do list) by feigning that something was wrong with the phone line. I think I even made silly static sounds into the mouthpiece like I’d seen on TV.

The Big Night was upon us!

*Strictly Come Dancing is a BBC entertainment programme where B and C list celebrities try to raise their status by dancing with professional ballroom dancers on TV. Some do become more famous, some even marry their dance partner.  A lot of legs akimbo hanky-panky does go on after rehearsals. Or so we are told.