My brain is largely empty, because I have always disliked clutter, and I sieve changes in the world using a complex set of reflexes commonly known as “Lack of Interest.” Never the less, on regular occasions we enjoy the company of my “Ambassador to Youth” who imports a range of items, all powered by that popular commodity otherwise known as “Electricity.”
Thus it was that I saw him planted in front of the television yesterday, playing some game with a name like “Catering Arguments,” in partnership with other friends of his who were also on line, ( which means not in the room but in the room if you follow me). As my Ambassador rushed around , dodging flying meringues and other potential dangers I could hear him shouting at some chum that a tank pumping out lethal amounts of custard could be seen moving in rattling manner past the ladies underwear shop, which had a sign saying “Discrete January Sale” plastered across its window. Sure enough, his friend, represented by a figure dressed in khaki who boasted a casual attitude to shaving, and who was armed with a range of lethal cooking implements, dived to the left and avoided being drenched in what I consider to be yellow heaven .
I am a man who can use a telephone, walks with some confidence towards the kettle and can demonstrate expertise with the TV remote using either hand. I am pretty up to speed with the latest in plant-watering techniques, but there is no chance of my being able to organise such a computer game with a couple of chums from “The Cheerful Parrot” while simultaneously doing a bit of homework and refining my social options for the coming weekend.
I cannot use my mobile phone to lower or raise the volume on said television while flicking through a range of essential “Apps” to ensure I am familiar with all developments to do with global warming and its effect on the football season. I try and add a modern note to my conversations with my Ambassador by saying that my soon to be published books are written in a manner which avoids glorifying unnecessary use of the car and suggest a limited use of central heating, but something in his manner implies I have failed to engage his interest.
Now, fired up by his technical expertise, and the appearance in my life of two grandchildren, I am thinking of penning a valuable guide-book called, “Talking to Another Generation Without The Need For Interpreters” but my publisher tells me the title is too long to put on any cover they would consider putting out on my behalf. Help me please, by suggesting a shorter title for my book in the comment box below or to an address of your choice.