I predict that one day soon, I am going to be on the television.
It will be on one of those List programmes that programme makers use to fill late-night slots where almost everyone watching is drunk and a little bit lonely. It will be called something like “Top 100 Stupidest Domestic Accidents” and will have one of those high-octane American presenters who can sound surprised and enthusiastic about pretty much anything.
My headline will be something like: “Stabbed through hand when Baked Beans ring-pull failed to operate!” Probably I’ll be quite high up the list.
And on that day, everyone who knows me has my full permission to get in touch by any means they find pleasing, and convey, in Greek-Chorus-style unison, the following message:
“This is what you get for throwing away the tin-opener.”