The Snorer and the Snoree. Guess who is who.
“You were snoring again last night.”
“Me? Snoring. Nonsense.”
“It sounded like an air raid siren competition.”
“Absolute rubbish. I never snore. I am famous for it.”
“You would have put a road drill to shame.”
“Unmitigated boloney. I have a well deserved reputation as a very quiet sleeper.”
“When you first tore me from the arms of morpheus, the din was so deafening that I was positive we were undergoing a terrorist attack.”
“Pure drivel. The thing is a palpable falsehood.”
“Then wiser counsels, namely the left hemisphere of my brain, prevailed and I realised that this horrendous hubbub was actually being emitted from the vicinity of your face, namely your proboscis.”
“I refute this vile calumny with every fibre of my being.”
“Your nasal trumpeting reminded me of a herd of elephants in musth.”
“I absolutely and completely reject any comparison with pachyderms, in whatever condition of sexual excitement they might find themselves.”
“Luckily I recorded the whole thunderous event and I will now play it back. Excuse me while I insert my industrial ear plugs and lock myself in this sound-proof cupboard. Here goes. "
A deafening noise fills the room. The chandelier starts swinging in desperate parabolas. Loose window panes shake in their frames. A downstairs neighbour, who has just furiously invoked the deity in an acrimonious dispute with his wife, assumes that God is rebuking him, there and then mends his errant ways and for the rest of his days becomes a model husband and incidentally an incredibly boring person.
But tragically it is Poopoo, the pygmy chihuaha,who is the real victim of the whole affair. In a frantic effort to escape the earsplitting din, he leaps desperately off his cushion hurtling to his death onto the stone floor five inches below.
“So what do you have to say about that?”
“You clearly have a lover. Who snores.”
“Well that’s a start. At least you admit that that strident racket resembled snoring?”
“Well yes and no. It could be a cry for help from a very misunderstood man.”
“Again we’re getting somewhere. Yes, I agree that you are misunderstood. I for one misunderstand you most of the time, especially when you are trying to pretend that you don’t snore. For God’s sake, take a look at yourself in the mirror, your nostrils are frayed.”
“Stuff and nonsense! My nostrils, which incidentally are my most attractive feature, have never looked better.”
“You do realise, I hope, that you’re in complete denial?”
“Me in denial? Poppycock. Ha ha ha, if there's one thing I'm not, it's in denial. I absolutely and categorically deny it.”
“Me? Snoring. Nonsense.”
“It sounded like an air raid siren competition.”
“Absolute rubbish. I never snore. I am famous for it.”
“You would have put a road drill to shame.”
“Unmitigated boloney. I have a well deserved reputation as a very quiet sleeper.”
“When you first tore me from the arms of morpheus, the din was so deafening that I was positive we were undergoing a terrorist attack.”
“Pure drivel. The thing is a palpable falsehood.”
“Then wiser counsels, namely the left hemisphere of my brain, prevailed and I realised that this horrendous hubbub was actually being emitted from the vicinity of your face, namely your proboscis.”
“I refute this vile calumny with every fibre of my being.”
“Your nasal trumpeting reminded me of a herd of elephants in musth.”
“I absolutely and completely reject any comparison with pachyderms, in whatever condition of sexual excitement they might find themselves.”
“Luckily I recorded the whole thunderous event and I will now play it back. Excuse me while I insert my industrial ear plugs and lock myself in this sound-proof cupboard. Here goes. "
A deafening noise fills the room. The chandelier starts swinging in desperate parabolas. Loose window panes shake in their frames. A downstairs neighbour, who has just furiously invoked the deity in an acrimonious dispute with his wife, assumes that God is rebuking him, there and then mends his errant ways and for the rest of his days becomes a model husband and incidentally an incredibly boring person.
But tragically it is Poopoo, the pygmy chihuaha,who is the real victim of the whole affair. In a frantic effort to escape the earsplitting din, he leaps desperately off his cushion hurtling to his death onto the stone floor five inches below.
“So what do you have to say about that?”
“You clearly have a lover. Who snores.”
“Well that’s a start. At least you admit that that strident racket resembled snoring?”
“Well yes and no. It could be a cry for help from a very misunderstood man.”
“Again we’re getting somewhere. Yes, I agree that you are misunderstood. I for one misunderstand you most of the time, especially when you are trying to pretend that you don’t snore. For God’s sake, take a look at yourself in the mirror, your nostrils are frayed.”
“Stuff and nonsense! My nostrils, which incidentally are my most attractive feature, have never looked better.”
“You do realise, I hope, that you’re in complete denial?”
“Me in denial? Poppycock. Ha ha ha, if there's one thing I'm not, it's in denial. I absolutely and categorically deny it.”
