question_mark1[1]I knew Saturday night was going to be a bad one. Firstly, I went for a quick run, despite the searing heat, and I asked Hairy Male Teenager to put some sausages in the oven at 7.30pm. He. over enthusiastically popped them in at 6.30pm resulting in a late supper of  burnt sticks and mash.  I then settled down to watch this week’s edition of Luther which I had been looking forward to, only to realise that Hairy Male Teenager had stopped the series recorder in order to make way for 140 hours of The Ashes.  I did ‘mention’ my anger to him using a few unmentionable words then skulked off to bed, hot and fuming. I was struggling to get to sleep when, very unusually, my mobile phone rang,  I groped to find it in the darkness, knocking over a beside glass of water on the way.  I blinked,  it was Little Trevor calling.  I mumbled an anxious ‘Hello’ and all I heard was ‘HELP!’

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