While Leftwing Idiot and I were having lunch in a café earlier he picked up the tomato ketchup, which came in a squeezy, plastic, tomato-shaped bottle filled to the brim with sauce.

Mischievously he started saying loads of stuff to me about squeezing it and how squeezy it was. I tried hard to ignore this and even covered my ears, but despite my efforts it was only a matter of time before my tics gave in and I picked up the bottle and squeezed it. A jet of ketchup shot up into the air and landed partly on the table, partly on the floor and partly on Leftwing Idiot!

He squawked with laughter, and I told him he had only himself to blame. He said he’d thought I’d squirt myself in the head, but his mischievous plan backfired in a spectacular way.

Sylvie came out of the café to join us, looked at the mess, heard the giggling, sighed, and went back inside to get some napkins.