The telephone rings.
It is Radio 2’s The Jeremy Vine Show! I would put them on my ‘friends and family’ thing, if I had not sacked B.T. for being annoying. The Radio Producer greets me warmly.
“A lady journalist has written something saying that househusbands are all useless and a complete waste of space,” she explains. “We wondered if you would be interested in coming back on to the show to demonstrate the opposite.”
I hastily check the skies for oncoming jets before puffing out my cheeks in some annoyance. “Of course,” I say. It is wrong to rise to the bait, I know.
She asks me a few questions to help her set up the interview.
I explain that I used to be a househusband, probably Britain’s leading househusband, and that it was an insult to say that my people are all rubbish, although clearly there was a bit of a gender divide thing over whether it was really necessary to move ornaments and dust underneath. I explain that during my househusband days I had personally booked and supervised the cleaner, which I had employed without mentioning it to the LTLP, in order that the house would be super-clean for her return home from work. I tell her about my repertoire of meals with a potato, a rich and varied diet full of interest and nutrients.
It is fortunate that they have decided to speak to somebody like me, with the ammunition to put this sexist harridan in her place.
“Riggghhhht,” replies the Radio Producer. “Well – what we’ll do is… we need to talk to a few more people in order to… well, we’ll give you a ring back at lunchtime if we need anything.”
“No problem!” I reply.
The Radio Producer does not ring back. I expect she had difficulty getting through, as the mobile reception is not very good in my part of the world. I take the Baby to play group instead, which is great as the ladies there hold him whilst I drink coffee.
So when you say re-appear….oh well they are obviously for a rubbish househusband. One that makes everyone else look good….right?
I took my eldest to playgroup the morning after #2 arrived. It was amazing. I sat looking slightly shell shocked whilst a gaggle of women brought me tea and cake.
Happy days.
Ooh, can you remind me about your meals with a potato recipes?
“my people”? What are you, then – the Moses of househusbands? I can see you now, leading your saggy band of tracksuited, unshaven eunuchs (each pushing a buggy with a squalling toddler) over to the playground and out of bondage…
Hope you don’t have to part the Red Sea on the way, or for that matter push any buttons to part the traffic. That’s getting dangerously close to manual labour. Perhaps you can get your minimum-wage refugee cleaner to do it for you?
You are an inspiration.
Is/are your potato recipes – a potato – in solitary splendour?
My people. You sound like the president of Guyana. He says ‘my people’ a lot.
Didn’t you know the Radio Producer and the lady journalist [the harridan] are one and the same? Or friends?