'Ello, 'Ello, 'Ello. What's All This Then?

Well the winner by a country mile was A, or

'Why The Football Fanatic Spent Her Birthday At The Police Station'

so here it is.

I've noticed we've got a few new readers, so for their benefit I feel I must point out again that the Football Fanatic, whilst highly intelligent, is alarmingly lacking in common sense.

(If you stick with this blog, this will probably become more and more apparent, as age does not appear to be wearying this trait).

Oh yes. She eats a lot. And talks a lot. Please keep this in mind, as it is rather pertinent to the story.

A few weeks ago, the Football Fanatic attended a staff 'do'. Dinner Dance, actually, at a rather posh hotel in town. During the course of the evening, a fight broke out. I say fight - it was more of an all-out brawl, fists flying, furniture flying, the works, which culminated in two sisters being pushed down a flight of stairs by a person who shall remain nameless, as this whole post is probably 'sub judice' and I am more than likely in imminent danger of being had up for contempt of court or similar in the very near future.

Anyway, the only witness to this sordid event (because she happened to be coming out of the Ladies Room which was near the staircase) was the Football Fanatic, who was subsequently called into the police station to give a statement.

Police Officer: Hello, I wondered if you could come in and give a witness statement this morning?

Football Fanatic: This morning? Well....I suppose I could.....but can you tell me how long it will take? It's my birthday, you see, and I've got to meet someone at dinnertime and after that I've got a surprise party arranged that I'm not supposed to know about, obviously.....

Police Officer: It won't take long. Half an hour at the most. Is eleven o'clock ok?

So, off she went. I did offer to go with her, but she was adamant that she'd be alright on her own. I told her to ring me as soon as she'd finished, which by my reckoning would be about half past eleven.

As you have probably guessed, half past eleven came and went. So did quarter to twelve........and twelve o'clock.

Where on earth could she be?

Ten past twelve....quarter past twelve......

By this time I thought she was in a cell somewhere and that I would be getting a call soon asking me to come and pick her up.

Finally, at half past twelve, the phone rang.

'Hello? Mum? It's me'

'What in God's name have you been doing all this time?'

Part Two tomorrow.......sorry, but there's a houseful of kids, plus two extra, plus rabbits, plus the Father of This Lot.......and I genuinely haven't got another minute to spend at this computer. At the moment, my cup not only runneth over, but is in danger of becoming a flash flood.