I was frantically trying to write a post about Panasonic headphones when my mobile phone started to ring, it was my Mum.
Mum: It’s me, your Mother.
Me: I know! You really don’t need to tell me every time you ring. This isn’t a landline, it’s my mobile and therefore it tells me that it is you. Your face flashes up on my phone.
Mum: Well that explains it.
Mum: Why you only seem to answer one in ten of my phone-calls. I am getting RSI from all the WhatsApp messages that I keep sending you.
Me: Really? Well I am surprised by that as most of your WhatsApp messages seem to consist of emojis. It’s like I am in Bletchley Park trying to crack some secret code.
Mum: My messages are perfectly easy to understand.
Me: Really, because some of your emoji combinations are highly dubious. We need to talk about your love for the aubergine emoji. You do realise that this actually could mean…..
Mum: A penis! Yes, Eunice informed me of this the other day. I gave her quite the fright when I sent her a WhatsApp message about your Father’s aubergine.
Me: What?! Actually, I don’t want to know. Why are you ringing?
Mum: I am ringing because I have had enough of your Father. He has dragged me back to the flipping dark ages. I am in the 1950s again.
Me: What are you going on about?
Mum: I thought that I had managed to wean him off but when I was visiting you on Jersey, he started it again. I am so ashamed of him.
Me: Oh my goodness Mum, what are you trying to tell me? Is he back on the……Diet Coke again? He knows that’s worse than crack and not good for him and his osteoporosis.
Mum: No Emma, it’s worse than that.
Me: Oh no.
Mum: Yes, he is buying the Daily Mail again.
Me: Oh Mum, I’m so sorry.
Mum: It’s in here with me, staring at me. That sexist pile of rubbish. I have told your father that it is outrageous. Two female leaders and what is the headline, it’s about their legs. I am furious.
Me: Yes, I couldn’t believe it when I saw it. I thought that it was a joke.
Mum: But it’s not and now he has gone out and left me in the room with the sodding thing.
Me: Well get rid of it.
Mum: Emma, how do you think that would go down? Do you remember when you were a 13 year-old girl and got fed-up of the topless calendar that your Father had in the house? You drew bras on every woman from January to December.
Me: Oh yes, he was very mad.
Mum: Said that you had vandalised his property. Didn’t speak to you for at least a couple of days.
Me: Yep. If you bin it then he would be unbearable. Turn it over.
Mum: I can’t do that, he will know. Since he has gone back on the Daily Mail, he has been ranting again.
Me: Oh goodness, get the red wine in and keep him topped up.
Mum: I do but I can hardly start him at breakfast. Although, he is making me want to start at breakfast. I dread going out with him to the village cafe and someone asking him about Brexit. The Daily Mail is not good for our marriage.
Me: I’m sure it’s not. You are going to have to dig deep Mum. Make him go cold turkey. Buy up all the Daily Mails in the village and then he won’t be able to get his hands on them.
Mum: Yes you are right. I am going to have to go into enemy lines to deal with this. I have a plan. Thanks Emma, LOL.
Me: LOL. Eh?
Mum: Yes, I am signing of the phone call. Lots Of Love. Honestly, Emma, how embarrassing that your Mother is more with it than you.
Mum: Oooh is that another sign-off? What’s it stand for?
Mum: I’m not stupid Emma, I know what it stands for. SOY, swearing at your Mother
Mum: Shame On You
Me: Mum, you do realise that this is an actual conversation so we don’t need to use abbreviations?
Mum: LOL. Yes, I do. Byyyyye.
Any tips for weaning someone off The Daily Mail?