I get on well with my brother in law. Kev is a great bloke. He isn't really a football fan. I did take him over to game once which he genuinely loved.
We had a conversation yesterday which has possibly irretrievebly damaged the relationship.
Anyway, here is how the conversation went. The bit in brackets is my inner turmoil - the devil inside me that cannot accept the conversation It often contradicts my spoken words.
Kev: Hi, mate. I was over in your part of the world today, delivering printers.
Me: cool. where'bouts?
Kev:Liverpool
Me: Oh lovely. Where'bouts?
Kev:Anfield
Me: (hesitantly) The suburb?
Kev:The football ground
Me: Did you get a peek inside [I hope you didn't get a peek inside
]
Kev:Yeah.
Me: What's it like inside? [Why didn't you pick me up and say I was your apprentice!?
]
Kev: Nice inside.I saw some shirts. Is there a bloke called Torray?
Me: Torres!! [Sheeesh!
]
Me: Where did you see the shirts? in the shop? [I hope it was the shop]
Kev: no in the place where they get ready for matches.
Me: You were in the changing rooms!!? [*******!
]
Kev: Yeah, then we went down a the corridor there is a sign they all touch.
Me: I know the sign, it is famous - it leads to the pitch. [crying: Why didn't you pick me up. I hate you]
Kev: Yeah, the grass is lovely
Me: You were on the pitch!? [
WTF!!! {FawltyMode}Right! I have had it with you. I am gonna thrash you within an inch of your life{\FawltyMode}
]
Kev: Yeah. The fella we met was lovely. He gave me a brochure of a recent match.
Me: You mean a programme {Sobbing bitterly inside: Its called a programme, you philistine. Why did God pick you for this task!!? I was availalable!!!]
Kev: Anyway I have sent you a text message with a photo.
Me: Oh cool thanks mate. [**** off!]
Obviously, once he knew he was going to Anfield he should've come and picked me up...anyway...Do you think I should hold this against him forever, or just just a year-or-two?
On a side note, the guy who showed him around made a massive impression on my brother-in-law and his assistant. It was a goodbit of Public Relations.
We had a conversation yesterday which has possibly irretrievebly damaged the relationship.
Anyway, here is how the conversation went. The bit in brackets is my inner turmoil - the devil inside me that cannot accept the conversation It often contradicts my spoken words.
Kev: Hi, mate. I was over in your part of the world today, delivering printers.
Me: cool. where'bouts?
Kev:Liverpool
Me: Oh lovely. Where'bouts?
Kev:Anfield
Me: (hesitantly) The suburb?
Kev:The football ground
Me: Did you get a peek inside [I hope you didn't get a peek inside
]Kev:Yeah.
Me: What's it like inside? [Why didn't you pick me up and say I was your apprentice!?
]Kev: Nice inside.I saw some shirts. Is there a bloke called Torray?
Me: Torres!! [Sheeesh!
]Me: Where did you see the shirts? in the shop? [I hope it was the shop]
Kev: no in the place where they get ready for matches.
Me: You were in the changing rooms!!? [*******!
]Kev: Yeah, then we went down a the corridor there is a sign they all touch.
Me: I know the sign, it is famous - it leads to the pitch. [crying: Why didn't you pick me up. I hate you
]Kev: Yeah, the grass is lovely
Me: You were on the pitch!? [
WTF!!! {FawltyMode}Right! I have had it with you. I am gonna thrash you within an inch of your life{\FawltyMode}]Kev: Yeah. The fella we met was lovely. He gave me a brochure of a recent match.
Me: You mean a programme {Sobbing bitterly inside: Its called a programme, you philistine. Why did God pick you for this task!!? I was availalable!!!]
Kev: Anyway I have sent you a text message with a photo.
Me: Oh cool thanks mate. [**** off!]
Obviously, once he knew he was going to Anfield he should've come and picked me up...anyway...Do you think I should hold this against him forever, or just just a year-or-two?
On a side note, the guy who showed him around made a massive impression on my brother-in-law and his assistant. It was a goodbit of Public Relations.
El Niño 
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