Brentford FC have had two games in the last week, and Cat Daddy and I have just listened to one of the post-match podcasts by our friends Billy and Dave, who run Beesotted, the Brentford fanzine.
Billy has quite a loud, booming voice so, when the podcast is on, we can’t really hear much else around us. An atomic bomb could drop and we wouldn’t realise.
You know which way this is going, don’t you?
During the ninety-minute podcast I was making dinner and, an hour or so in, I decided to put some empty glass jars in the recycling. As soon as I opened the door, Louis Catorze ran in. The little sod had been out at The Front the whole time and, because we’d been listening to the podcast at full volume, we hadn’t heard the screaming.
Unfortunately, two blokes in the park clearly HAD heard it. And they were looking over and laughing.
As I continued to tidy up after dinner, more stuff needed to be put out for recycling. I didn’t want to go out there in case the blokes were still in the park and I couldn’t face them again, but Cat Daddy persuaded me that they had probably gone home and/or that they may not have been laughing at Catorze anyway. And, like an idiot, I believed him.
When I went out again, I saw that the two blokes had been joined by a friend. And the THREE of them were looking over and laughing.
Oh. Mon. Dieu.
I wish I could say that this were the most embarrassing Catorzian thing ever. However, regretfully, I know that it’s only the most embarrassing Catorzian thing this week.