“Hellooooooooooo?!!! HELLOOOOOOOO?!!!” An old British codger poked his head in the house this morning, bellowing until someone paid him attention. My stepmom is now on her second hour of dedicated listening.
Main topics include tubes inserted into the guy’s stomach (“combats the flatulence”), living on a pensioner’s income, and other topics to keep me huddled under the covers. I won’t go downstairs until this is done. Homeboy doesn’t even know we’re in a standoff, and his gasbaggery shows no signs of losing steam.
To be fair, I like most British people on TV.
Postscript: The smell of eggs lured me downstairs. Predictable.