They said they would send a film crew to put on record my latest exploits for the series "Master Chef" but they still hadn't shown up by the time the lunchtime tourist boat came up the river.
By the time it came downriver again, I'd eaten most of the 'evidence' which consisted of Mongolian Lamb on a kingsize bed of boiled rice, accompanied by a dizzy salad (so called because of the state it was in after all the tossing) of finely chopped sweet onions, rocket leaves, homegrown cucumbers, and sliced grape tomatoes, all washed down with a glass of Chateau Cardboard "Extra Thick".
While partaking of all this, one of those "mine-is-bigger-than-yours" boats began to circle off the jetty. Pointing at the FOR SALE sign, the skipper called out, "How much?" As I was chewing on my Mongolian Lamb, I silently mouthed the word 'million' and held up two fingers.
They must've been hopeless at lip-reading (or misinterpreted my two fingers) because they looked quite upset as they motored off abruptly. Good riddance!
