Perhaps someone, somewhere, has cursed me. In fact I'm now so worried about the possibility of a curse I'm beginning to think Tom Cruise is getting me back for all those tasteless jokes I've made about him. They were only small, almost unnoticeable, jokes - that's why I thought he wouldn't really mind. But now I'm not so sure. What if Tom really is some bad-ass tough guy like Jack Reacher?
Okay..maybe not. It's probably just bad luck: I've just remembered the laws of probability.
Master Ben and I are awaiting his turn in the barber's chair. It's been a long wait and there are now two barbers, two clients in the chairs and two other clients in the waiting area alongside us.
( I know - it was a tad cruel to be mean about my own sex but I figured I might as well break it to Master Ben now - that way he can have the pre-nup in place first time around. And if he earns a tonne of cash when he's older hopefully he'll still have some spare to support his old mum rather than than several high maintenance ex-wives.)
Master Ben: But your hair is short. Why should you pay more? (pause) Why don't you pretend you're a man?
Mrs T (Momentarily flabbergasted) Umm... because I look like a woman?
Master Ben: But you have a moustache.
(Slight pause as Mrs T contemplates a) suicide b) putting Master Ben up for adoption and c) pretending to be deaf.
Mrs T: Well I do have very dark hair....
(Mrs T is now as bright as a pickled beetroot but trying desperately to look totally nonchalant )
Master Ben: And you have a beard.
(Mrs T's hand immediately flies to chin to check for giant facial hairs whilst turning a deep puce and feeling the stirrings of a panic attack.)
Mrs T: ********* ****** *********!!!*******!!!!!!
( It's not expletives - I just can't actually remember what as I said - I was too distressed.)
Master Ben: But in the sun I can see blonde hairs beneath your lip!
Mrs T: *************Ummmm.......******** Ahhhhhh.....******
(I said something but again I can't remember what - probably some unintelligible dribble as by this time I was practically an incoherent red mass of blubber on the floor.)
Master Ben: You could wear a baggy jumper and no one could see your....(giggles)...no one could see that you're a woman.
Mrs T: (Still trying to be nonchalant) I still think people could tell I'm a woman.
Master Ben: But no one's going to check.
Mrs T: I suppose so. (Anything to shut the kid up.)
Master Ben: Well they're not going to look down your pants.
Mrs T: Oh look it's the football highlights......
Finally, I just want to confirm that conversation really did happen. Now I know some of you will now be thinking one of the following:
a) I need a shave
b) Master Ben sounds so sweet and innocent he probably didn't really mean to embarrass me in front of six men and push me to the edge of a violent and bloody suicide.
To which I answer:
a) My life would be a lot easier as a man. However, I swear to God I am not as gross as I sound. In fact about 25 years ago I once got my arse pinched twice on the same day. The fact they were both school kids is totally irrelevant.
b) Master Ben is about as sweet and innocent as Dita Von Teese. I saw his face. That boy will go far, believe me.