First published at the time of Naomi Campbell and the investigation into Liberian diamonds.
So, let me get this right. There is this 62 year old bloke, a super model and some diamonds and the court wants to know what is going on? Derrr! Have these judges ever read a Catherine Cookson novel?
I have been having a few technical problems this week mainly with buttons and kitchen devices. The first was on Saturday when I failed to notice that I was watching the wrong programme or at least the right programme but the wrong title. I have never seen ‘Are You Smarter than a Ten Year Old’ before and sat down to watch a few minutes. There was Wayne Rooney kicking a football against a wall and I thought, well that question has been answered what next? I then discovered I had tuned into Wayne’s Rooney’s Street Striker Soccer where a dozen hopefuls kick a ball about, burst into tears, storm off when they fail, let everyone down and then are given a second chance only to fail again. I assume the first prize was a place in the England team.
The second button problem came from my new ‘walk in’ fridge. I have always wanted an American style refrigerator with huge interior lights, water dispenser and a pull out picnic table to cut down on travelling….so I went and bought one.
‘Look,’ said the enemy, the good lady wife. ‘This one has an ice maker.’
Wow, so I switched it on and waited by the hole in the door. An hour and forty five minutes later I got the first lump in my drink and was delighted. Then I noticed the crush button and with squeals of delight I got a sort of white wine slushy. I was in heaven. But here I defend myself. AT NO POINT DOES IT SAY TURN OFF THE ICE MAKING MACHINE WHEN TRAY IS FULL. Later that evening I noticed that the temperature in the entire house had dropped and descended to the darkened kitchen dressed in only my boxers. I switched on the light and was met by a scene of artic tundra! Scrabbling over a small drift like Scrat, the saber-toothed squirrel from Ice Age 3, I managed to clear a path to the cats bowl and started to ram powdered ice down the plug hole before the enemy arrived. I decided to switch off the light so as not to draw the attention of the entire household and more importantly, not to wake the enemy. I gingerly opened the fridge door and stared in at Santa’s Grotto with salami encased in ice and butter with which you could bang a nail in! There was a sort of chicken lolly like thing and a pizza with the same tensile strength as a man hole cover. It was then that I discovered another little problem of the illuminated fridge! I was lit up for all the neighbours to see, a shaft of light with a near naked Fitz on ice! A silhouette holding stiff salami in nothing but a pair of boxers!
Anyway, that ends my statement for the defence, more on the court case next week. And let’s face it; it’s slightly more believable than other court cases at the moment.
Fitz
