No, no, no, no no. No. In every partnership there MUST always be a hero and a sidekick. And it always spells trouble when a sidekick tries to kick the hero aside.
How dare she? I mean, seriously, how dare she?
Just as I was beginning to actually enjoy the relation of my overnight adventure (now that the pain is properly fading), who should have the treachery to step over my weakened, furry, body and into the spotlight? My duplicitous vixen of a partner, that's who. Oh yes.
This evening saw my partner appear live on air with Simon Mayo on his BBC Radio 2 Drivetime Show. She was their "telephone expert" (yeah, right...) for this evening's 'Homework Sucks' segment (advising an 11 year-old on how to learn lots of lines for her school play in a very short time).
In case you are interested - here is a link to the BBC iPlayer which features the traitorous harpy (as dubious as I am about revealing her name for fear of lurking nutters; she has brought this entirely upon herself):
The link is only valid for ONE WEEK from today. You need to slide the pink/purple 'time' bar along to 1:40:00, which is roughly about thirty seconds before she goes on the air. Part of her 'bit' might get replayed fairly early on in tomorrow's show (starts at 5.00pm).
I am especially angry, because she had to wait on the 'phone with a producer for a short while prior to going on air. We have both (mostly me) been filmed for a BBC programme before - but I was younger then. Now I appreciate that one must seize these opportunities, however scant, if one is to enlighten the proletariat. Accordingly, as soon as I twigged to what was a-paw (and my partner was already slightly manic; the BBC bod having rung at precisely the moment that my partner was upstairs downloading a weemail, causing her to race downstairs whilst adjusting her trousers - getting her shirtsleeve snagged on the banister in the process and having to frantically restore knickers plus trousers AND unhook body from banister all whilst the BBC were ringing our telephone - that was a sight, the memory of which shall enliven many a dull moment to come, I can assure you.), I began to bark in my best, clearest tones. Starsky utilised that very instant to amble past my French windows, which caused a number of rather lavatorial swear-barks to tumble from my frothing maw.
All the while, my partner was hissing "Shut up! Shut up! Shut the **** UP, Jasper! Mummy's about to be on BBC Radio! Children mustn't hear language like that!" whilst trying to sound calm and relatively sane whenever the producer came on the line with "Two minutes to go, ----." She shut me in the hallway - but my bark is mightier than mere walls and doors and I could not be silenced. Ultimately, she took a terrific gamble, replacing the receiver on the desk and convincing me that her call had ended. I was instantly becalmed.
Take note of this, dear reader. I was duped by a lie. Oh yes. The sheer audacity of it! My partner conducted her radio interview with a background of silence and tranquillity (although I believe I may be heard burping at one point).
And, if you are reading this after the above link has expired - or from a location where it refuses to operate - I can assure you that yes; she sounded like a complete tit. (I mean even more so than usual). Well - it has often been barked that she possesses "the perfect face for radio".
I am very angry. There will be no 'Evolution' tonight, sweet reader. I'm going up early to bed and stealing all the good pillows before my partner gets there.
Let that stand as a lesson to ALL who dare to step out of their proper place in the scheme of things. Oh yes.