#KidologyQuotes 68: He'd show her. Show her what, he wasn't exactly sure
"Jim," wheedled Ingrid, "seeing as we're going up in the world... could we just get a cleaner?"
"Going - where?"
"Up in the world. You know - your new job."
"Oh - yeah. Believe me Ingrid, there's nothing I'd like more. But we don't know anyone suitable and you know what these agencies are like. They all have the same types on their books: the fat Irish mum who wears slippers and drowns you in tea; the shy Filipino who totters round in white stilettos and lurid makeup; and the cockney heroin addict who makes imprints of your front door key in the kids' Playdo’.”
Pleased with his little skit, which he'd been polishing for some time, Jim marged the toast, the sound of which hurt his nodes, wishing she'd laugh. Ingrid never laughed at his jokes these days. Yet she found him a joke. Well, he'd show her. Show her what, he wasn't exactly sure; nor, exactly, when. But he'd show her, all right.