A Secret Is Finally Revealed (part 1)

I know why you are here.

I know that you want answers.

No! I have not won the lottery. hahahaha. Gotcha!

You know that I know that I know something you do not.

We both know that I am now going to tell you what it is that I have not been able to tell you about until today.

For the past few weeks I have been desperate to share some (what I consider to be) good news.

For reasons that will only become clear after this sentence is finished, I will explain why I have not been able to talk about it until now.

First though, I want to share with you two conversations that I was part of that will fully detail my secret.

The first conversation happened while on holiday a few weeks ago.  *insert wibbly wobbly sound effect*

Myself and Mrs H were sat in the bar at the hotel enjoying a few of those smashing cocktails that we both had become quite partial to and playing a few rounds of a nice little card game called SHITHEAD when Mrs H asked a very important question. It was not the sort of question I was expecting nor was it asked in the manner that I would have expected the question to be asked if I had in fact been expecting the question.

The question went something like this:

Mrs H. “Are going to get married or what?” The word “What” said uttered with quite a fair amount of venom in part due to the fact that Mrs H was holding most of the deck of cards (For those not familiar with the game shithead – this is not a good position to be within the game).

ME: “Umm…well… yea. I assumed we would be. When to you want to get married?”

Mrs H. “Well, you haven’t asked me – HAVE YOU?”

ME: “No… Um..Do you want to get married, then?”

Mrs H: *thinks a bit* “Yea okay.”

So there we. If you have just scrolled down to see what all the bloody fuss is about, you really need to read that last bit then read this bit.

Me and Mrs H are getting married!

But hang on one cotton picking god darned minute there – I can hear you say – How come Mrs H is called Mrs H but you are not already married? This is a bloody con. You are a right little liar liar pants on fire.

And… yes. Thing is, Mrs H doesn’t want people to know her real name and when we do get married and she changes her name I will be forced to change her name on here so that people don’t recognise her. (it’s all very confusing this marriage malarkey)

Anyway.

There is another conversation to be told before this tale is over and done with.

It is the conversation that has caused me to remain silent on this matter for some time.

It is the conversation with Mrs H’s Dad. We shall call him Richard (because I thought that was his name even though his name is Brain – in fairness He is always referred to as Dick by Mrs H’s mum Known as Joan; as in “Put the kettle on, dick!”)

I am, contrary to popular belief, a man of certain traditions. I am all in favour of reinstating small orphan children as chimney sweeps and public whippings of the poor. I am also a believer that It is only polite to ask the father of the bride permission for his daughters hand in marriage.

The conversation went something not TOO dissimilar to this…

*After a shocking conversation in which I learned that Dick, I mean Richard had been awoken after attempting to have a lie in on Sunday by Joan and ordered to “get up and put the kettle on…DICK!*

ME: “So, Brain – Big B – The B-myster! ..”

Richard: “Don’t call me that.”

ME: Sorry. I do need to ask you a question. Richard.. i mean Brian, Do I have your permission to marry your daughter?”

Richard *before I had even finished pronouncing that question mark* “NO!”

To be honest, that was not the answer either I or Mrs H were expecting.

And so the big reveal has been revealed but in order to maintain some level of suspense and drama the end of this conversation shall be kept for next time.. DUM DUM DAAAAAAAAANNN!!