Sunday, September 25, 2005

Making A Splash

Tufnell Park Towers descended into something of an almighty waterfight on Saturday afternoon. As with all proper conflicts, there is some disagreement as to how exactly it started. Some would say it was my doing. I, however, prefer to say: hey, let’s not squabble over details, and rather just take heart from the fact that you are seemingly never too old to completely drench your own home and belongings in the name of fun and japes. And at the very least, it finally cleared some of the muck off the walls from last week’s party.

No part of the house was spared, and I am now, as I try to settle down to watch TV some 32 hours later, beginning to regret my decision to empty the best parts of two saucepans largely over the sofa. Spared neither was Housemate Louise’s recently straightened hair. So yes, it was quite a raucous affair: a Lynne was seen to irritably peer out of her window (and possibly tut) as the mayhem spread to the garden.

My persistence and never-say-die attitude in combat was likened to that of Friday the 13th’s Jason Voorhees, and I think I had emerged something of the victor - my coup de grace coming as I feigned injury to lure a merciless Housemate Reggae into the kitchen through the slightly ajar door upon which a full bucket of water was precariously balancing in readiness* - only to find myself ruthlessly ambushed at the peace treaty signing ceremony.

Attempts to restart hostilities whilst I was distracted with mopping the kitchen of the inch of water which covered its floor were not welcome, but did at least allow me to give an outing to my sublime Norah Batty impression (in full chasing-Compo-with-a-Mop mode). One which I don’t get to do nearly enough, let me tell you.

*Unlike the movies or other such media portrayals might have you believe, rather than miraculously spinning 180° and landing smartly over someone’s head, a full bucket of water will drop straight down and land base first on your opponent’s head with an unceremonious "clunk", before haphazardly spilling over their dazed and prone body. Arf!


Elsewhere, you’d be best advised to resist acting suspiciously in and around the Gulf of Mexico for the time being.


emaleejayne said...

If you tried that at my house, I'd KILL you!! ;)

Shane said...

Idea: call yourselves 'The Two Lynnes', release an album ('Mop Fantastico'), and we'll see you at the Mercury Music Awards next year. Specifics: Louise (bass), reggae (drums), you (vox/guitar).

Curly said...

That sounds like a whole lot of fun! I've always wanted to know if the bucket on the door trick would work, perhaps you should run trials to get the optimum spinnage on the bucket to make it turn 180 degrees.

My friend Bledd set an amazing trap for a lad called Ryan on the weekend which would have caused all of Ryans stuff to fall down the stairs on top of him as he opened the front door. Unfortunately, Bledd was far too drunk and passed out before seeing his devious plan set into action. Ryan wasn't happy in the morning though.