Insult

Squeaky Dot wrote a letter to Michael in the Peoples Democratic Republic of Yemen.

"I expect you are sitting out in the dark and desolate place wondering if I am sleeping with someone else, well I have to tell you I am"

Julie China said "I don't fancy you anymore, but would you like one last bonk before the mirror". There was a football match playing on the TV in the Amsterdam hotel room.

The Icon took a bite when Michael was sleeping, "You are hopeless" she said

Sarah Stevens said, whilst walking in the park in Farnham, came up with

"You are too old, too ugly, too fat for me". All of which was most manifestly true.

Rachel Surrey dumped Michael by mobile phone whilst waiting in the check out queue in Tesco, what better way for a busy career woman to best utilise some dead time.

These events amuse, they make a tale, are part of the stuff of relationships, are what women do. A man can justify some fear and loathing by these tales, explain not being married or of having sired children. But they are hardly insults, these are women.

Tim King invited Michael to his very smart hotel for a curry lunch on Sunday. Michael was not so keen but it is only polite as a neighbour. Arriving for lunch Tim extended greetings, showed him to a table on the lower level of the restaurant. Then he called a waiter who listed the numerous bits and pieces of the colonial tradition. Then Tim said he was leaving to join his high table and left the man he had invited to eat on his own. Of course Michael walked out, but too late, the insult had been wonderfully delivered. Only a man can effectively insult another man, and in so doing define there relations in every other sphere until they die.

I have seen Tim plenty of times since then, we are always polite, formal, if we have to speak we do. I sometimes think such gratuitous insults ignore the rule of unnecessary enemies: "Do not make unnecessary enemies, there will come plenty enough on there own". I surmise that if you are that rich and powerful there is every confidence in the power to always vanquish.

Lisa turning her face three quarters to the light, the blond mane dropping to so prettily frame face, a perfected gesture, speaking posh with a dash of Essex.

"Michael sitting here amongst this beauty you are such a bitter, twisted, obsessive, cantankerous old sod"