This was deemed one of the all-time top dropthebeatonit moments by the fanbase.

It concerned an email altercation with my ex-girlfriend back in the day. The content caused a great deal of debate amongst the sexes, I received aggressive levels of hate-mail from the female populous and more than a few muffled fair play‘s and missed high fives from the mandem. Yet more proof if ever it was needed that the biggest chasm in our fragile world remains not rich or poor, black or white, young or old, but male and female.

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Monday 16th April

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned I was Dog House bound for the foreseeable future.



There was me thinking I was out.

But no it seems I’m back once again.

So languishing here at the bottom of the garden, scrutching around sniffing my balls and perspiring through my tongue, I figure I might as well enjoy it while it lasts and share the root of my predicament with all you people. Below is an email thread between me and She Who Must Not Be Named. Another way of describing it would be to call it a stunning attack of vitriol based on extremely little circumstantial evidence, in response to a pretty great joke.

I’ve selected my favourite bits and blown them up for your viewing pleasure.



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‘Stupid little email’ cut me deep since I thought it was a pretty funny email, not to mention a valid request at the time. I like it though.


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‘Spoilt little teenage brother’ is also good. I’ll take it.


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MacGyver-style diversion tactics, a classic for the scrapbook.


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Repetition of the word ‘off’. Ouch.


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Last but not least the killer parting shot. Not even any kisses at the end. Cold.

Apparently this is ‘Not on’. Which leaves me wondering what is on? As far as I’m concerned I’d hope some sausages might be currently on the grill turning and spitting nicely, and my pants be on the bed washed and neatly folded. Let’s hope this doesn’t get blown out of all proportion, but in case it does I feel there are two lessons to be learnt from this debacle. One is never mess with a man with his own blog. And in light of this and in my defence, the other comes straight from the mouth of the original gee Oscar Wilde.

There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about. And that is not being talked about.

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Suffice to say the post sparked some healthy debate.

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With some years of hindsight, it seems fitting now to mention there is not a snowball’s chance in Hades I would ever have deigned to write something like that were it not for the preternatural dopeness of said aforementioned ex-girlfriend, one I saw for breakfast this morning and whose coolness I was once again reminded of, as well as a warm fuzziness I feel to have spent all the time I did in her intimacy. Sorry again for the dirty pants and socks Skye. Still can’t believe you fell for the ‘don’t worry about all this I’ll do it’ before you left line.

Definitely still a classic for the scrapbook.