Every cloud and all that

“Is it alright if I use your toilet?”“

What day of the week is it?

“What? Erm … Tuesday. Why do you want to know what day of the week it is?”

“Oh I'm sorry I thought we were asking each other stupid questions.” 

“Dick head.”

“Well you know what they say…” and they both said it in unison “it takes one to know one!” And then they both laughed. 

Joe scuttled off to do whatever it was he needed to do. In his absence Davey picked up his phone from the coffee table and checked it for the umpteenth time in the last twenty minutes just in case he'd missed a message from his girlfriend Anna even though he had the ringer on full. Nothing. The disappointment hit him again. They'd had a silly argument earlier in the day and now she was making him pay with the silent treatment. They'll work it out though, they always do. He then checks the football scores, makes a mental note to tell Joe that Arsenal are a goal down to West Ham when he gets back in the room. He's taking his time, he thinks to himself. Makes another mental note to not ask Joe why. 

Finally Joe reappears chuckling to himself. Davey cocks his head to the right as he looks at him like a dog might do somewhat confused when something out of the ordinary is occurring which wasn't at all what had been expected. “What's so funny?” Curiosity always kills the cat. 

“Your mum,” Joe replies and starts laughing louder this time and shakes his head as if in disbelief.

Davey inhales deeply and then puffs out his cheeks in readiness. “I don't want to know!” He instructs Joe more in hope than expectation. He knows Joe as well as he knows himself which means Joe is about to tell him why he thinks his mother is so amusing. Davey cricks his neck to the right trying to relieve the instant tension that has appeared in that region.

“She's proper funny your mum.”

“Yeah so I heard.”

“What you don't think so?”

“No funnily enough I don't.”

“Is that because the jokes are normally about you?”

“Oh well done you Sherlock Holmes,” Davey tells him sarcastically and adds a slow clap for good measure. 

“So go on then, what did she say about me this time?”

“Oh, sorry to disappoint you but it was nothing to do with you Mr Egotistical. She just came up to me with a deadly serious face and whispered in my ear if you have to murder someone, never ever tell anyone that you did it and walked off again into the kitchen like nothing ever happened. Mate she is fucking hilarious.”

Davey shook his head and made a face where his cheeks kind of tucked in making his lips spread out like he was doing an impression of Donald Duck. Joe was now busy laughing at Davey instead. When he finally stopped it was to ask the question “Do you think your mum has ever murdered someone then?”

“No you dickhead it means she's been perving over… what's his face again?”

“Who?”

“That Bond fella.”

“What Sean Connery?”

“No you doughnut, the other one!”

“Jesus, ergh what Roger Moore?”

“Oh fuck off. No, the new one!”

“Oh erm…”

Silence now descended as their teenage minds tried to think of his name. Take your time lads no pressure. 

“Brosnan…no…”

“Connery, Moore, Lazenby … no Lazenby was before Moore…”

“Oh Dalton!” Joe says excitedly. “He was after.”

Davey rolls his eyes. “Yes thank you I was getting to him next. Brosnan and then… oh fucking hell.”

“David. Craig David!” Joe shouts excitedly looking really quite pleased with himself. 

“You dickhead. Craig David sung the seven days song. Met the girl on Monday and blah blah blah. Craig fucking David. Fuck me.”

Joe at least is able to laugh at his own stupidity. Silence ensued again. Finally Davey remembers “Daniel Craig!”

“I was fucking close,” adds Joe. 

“Hardly fucking close Joe. One's an actor and one's a singer!” Davey tells him clearly missing the obvious point. 

“Craig David and Daniel CRAIG you Muppet,” Joe responds pointing out the obvious. 

“Oh.”

Joe’s turn to shake his head. “Anyways how the fuck did we get onto the subject of James Bond? I'm confused now.”

Davey's got his confused dog look on his face again. He can't remember either. Doesn't take much to distract the attention of teenage boys onto something else it's fair to say. Joe sits back down on the sofa beside Davey and they both stare forward trying to work out why Davey had wanted to remember Daniel Craig's name. Joe backtracked through the conversation to the part where he remembered asking if Davey's mum had ever murdered someone. “So has your mum murdered someone?” he asks breaking the silence.

Davey dug his elbow into Joe's ribs by way of response. 

“Oi leave it out. Totally unnecessary that you prick!” Joe runs the spot where the elbow landed silently wishing Davey wasn't such a spiteful prick. 

“Well one, don't ask stupid questions and two, the fucking advice she told you was if you murder someone don't ever tell anyone about it. So if she had murdered someone she'd most likely have followed her own fucking advice don't you think?” Davey bent forward and picked up his phone and checked again. Still no message. Quelle fucking suprise. He throws it down onto the wooden coffee table making a large clunking sound as it connects. The catalyst for the irritation thrown at Joe was from the lack of message and the silent treatment than it had been for what Joe had said. Boys being boys though it would have been a heinous crime to admit to sharing your feelings at that moment in time. Certainly a crime far worse than a murder. 

“Ever seen Layer Cake Joe?”

“Layer Cake? Is that like Bake Off?”

This time it wasn't an elbow to the ribs but a hard punch downward onto the left thigh which left Joe with a dead leg.

“I'll take that as a no then,” Joe added as he rubbed his leg furiously hoping it would bring it back to life. 

“It's a Daniel Craig film. Mother has clearly spent the afternoon perving over him if she's quoting lines from the film at you for her own amusement,” and Davey’s upper body shudders at the mere thought in the same way a toddler does when it's having a wee in its nappy. 

“Do you think she…” 

Before Joe got a chance to finish his sentence Davey cut in quick “If you finish that fucking sentence like I think you're about to then I'm going to have to instigate that golden rule that you just learned courtesy of my fucking mother. Do you understand?”

Joe crunched up his entire body in defence ready to be punched or elbowed again but it didn't come. Finally he put his hands up in surrender and slowly released the tension from the rest of his body. 

“Sorry,” Joe tells him. Davey doesn't reply. 

Joe sits forward in his seat and looks at the cover of a magazine on the coffee table and flicks the corner closest to him so it turns around so he can get a closer look. He shuffles forward more so he's now fully on the edge of the sofa, still giving the impression he's interested in the magazine. Like a bullet fired from a gun he quickly blurts out “So do you think she wanks herself off watching Daniel Craig?” and before he's even half way through the sentence he's pushed himself up and is starting to run for the door where he's quickly trailed by Davey who at least has now forgotten about Anna and the silent treatment. Every cloud and all that. 

Sadly I can't tell you if Joe lived to tell the tale.