Postscript to the Great Curry Explosion

He, the fat bastard that is, was home relatively early this afternoon, at just after 1:30. I set up a rather relaxed atmosphere and then dropped into our conversation a remark about how I'd discovered that the same curry-type substance I'd had to clean up from the front of the washing machine etc I'd now found in clots on the kitchen ceiling.

Sadly and all too predictably he first of all feigned no memory of my original discovery and they denied all knowledge of what the substance was (or indeed how it might have come to be ALL OVER THE KITCHEN) and finally amazement that something of which he had neither knowledge or memory could be on the kitchen ceiling.

Around 2pm he left to go to the Internet Shop, presumably to check on the paramour's progress (the Fool from Philadelphia) or perhaps to spend an hour trying to find out what it is I'm up to...

Now he's back again and he's parked his fat arse on the floor in front of the television watching early episodes of The West Wing which we have on video.