Do you ever wake up just itching for a fight? I’m not sure if it was the solar eclipse that was doing something funny to the stars but earlier this week I could have taken on Mike Tyson in an argument over whether popcorn should be sweet or salted.
As he wasn’t around I went for a slightly easier option – I fired off some ratty e-mails to my daughter’s headteacher. As they sing in Chicago, she had it coming and it took getting out of bed on the wrong side for me to address the situation.
Then with my ire not quite satisfied I took to Facebook with some provocative posts that I knew would prod a few people to vent their anger with some furious keyboard banging.
And, you know, it worked. I felt strangely satisfied by the reaction. Job done.
In the middle of all this I noticed that The Producers is coming to Edinburgh next week starring Jason Manford, above, and Phill Jupitus, who are both very funny chaps.
But boy, was I annoyed to see that Liam Rudden, of this parish, had been invited to the premiere of this particular production in Manchester. Why wasn’t I there? It didn’t really occur to me that was no reason on this earth that I should have been invited.
So I did the next best thing and got some tickets for the show at the Festival Theatre. I invited my friend Jo. She likes a musical, but also works at both the Citizens Advice Centre and on the Children’s Panel. You see, I reckoned that if I start getting worked up about having to queue for the bar, or the person in front of me fidgeting or, worse still, eating some crunchy sweets, she will be able to talk me down.
You know, when I think about it perhaps I should go back to the School of Philosophy – two hours on considering the meaning of life and all I’ll need is a lie down rather than a punch-up.
The Producers – Pages 30-31