I Telecommanded Your Mum

Everyone’s got those lovey-dovey couples’ nicknames for each other… honeypie. Sweetie. Erotically charged buttock-boil. (Okay, maybe we’re not all married to Dani Filth).

What I truly relish is those nicknames ascending into highly abusive condemnations, which somehow still remain endearing. Yelling “NOOB!” at each other over the last few years has somehow organically blossomed into the more modern insult of “NOOBZONITRON!” Sadly, when I hear this, my initial interpretation is that Adam is exclaiming surprise at the release of a new Bejeweled-esque puzzle game.

Then there’s the old favourite insult – bellowing “YOU DILDO!” at each other. This, too, has transgressively erupted into the mathematical denigration of “YOU STUPID GODDAMN DILDODECAHEDRON” as an insult under our roof. It only just occurred to me this evening that we’re essentially calling each other one of these:

Well, all I have to say is – it’s certainly giving ME an acute angle, ladies!

After all these insults, there’s only been one place left for us to go: insulting each other in French. The problem is that our French vocabulary extends as far as Warrick Capper’s groin’s grasp of humility. This often leads to insult matches along the lines of:

Me: You BAGUETTE!
Adam: You stupid… er… CROISSANT!
Me: Why, you, you… HOMOSEXUELLE!

Ever since we noticed “homosexuelle” in the captions for an SBS movie a few years ago, we’ve been unable to stop pronouncing it with the pomp of a formal introduction by English royalty, desperately trying to excuse themselves from a dinner with the French prime minister.

There is one king-hitter that always ends the French insulting matches, and it was only recently learnt from a dual-language set of instructions supplied with a universal remote control we purchased. There’s no way to swiftly end a round of slurs on one’s character by vomiting up:

Adam: You, sir, are a TELECOMMANDE.

Which simply happens to be French for “remote control”, but sounds like so much more. The only possible retort is that you’ve telecommanded your verbal jousting partner’s mum.

In the meantime, WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL WATCHING LOST. Did you actually catch this week’s synopsis?

“This week, Jack eats an unsatisfactory sandwich – and what will happen to the island when Sayid’s cheque bounces at the supermarket?”

Okay, perhaps not, but sheesh. Pick it up! Suppose it’s still not as bad as Prison Break’s writers seemingly discovering the delights of hallucinogens while penning the latest series. At this point, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid if Michael Schofield had to rescue his brother from a capsule on the moon in next week’s episode.

Tagged as: Adam, French, TV