This morning, I was idly flicking my cheek, making a plooping noise vaguely reminiscent of a drop of water falling into a pool. I'm usually pretty crap at making this noise, but this morning I was in the groove.
"What are you doing?" asked Jen
"I'm making a plooping noise by flicking my cheek. Why don't you have a go?"
"I don't want to."
"Go on, have a go!"
"I won't be any good at it."
"Who cares? Go on, have a go!"
So Jen flicked me in the cheek.
"Would you mind popping into Hebden Bridge later on?" asked Jen, a couple of minutes later.
"Sure. What for?"
"I need you to go to the dry cleaners and buy a tax disc for my car."
"The dry cleaners don't sell tax discs; you have to go to the post office for those."
"No, not one-all at all. That wasn't as good as mine!"
"Yes it was!"
"No it wasn't: mine involved physical violence!"
"Oh, you're right… The dry cleaners don't sell tax discs; you have to go to the post office for those." [Slaps Jen across forehead] "Two-One!"