The Law of Steve Martin

V has forsaken an evening spent in front of the telly making snide remarks about various reality television specimens to go out with Jody.

"We're meeting at the Angel," says V, "then going to a new Jamaican place that got an amazing write-up in Time Out. I won't be late. In fact, it’ll be very civilised."

I'm in the kitchen, thinking about what I'm going to eat on my home alone night. In days of yore I would without question have ordered in a chicken jalfrezi, multiple pakora and a naan the size of a sleeping bag, all to be accompanied by several cans of rock ‘n’ roll mouthwash. Now I'm a metrosexualised urban sophisticate in my early mid-thirties, this kind of behaviour feels hopelessly gauche. I suspect there are by-laws that prevent it in certain London boroughs.

Thus, I decide to make - from scratch, mind - a recipe for low-fat lamb and mint burgers from a glossy food supplement. The posh burgers shall be accompanied not by chips but by actual, real life rocket from a bag and perhaps a small glass of Wolf Blass. It's all about 'quality, not quantity’ these days.

V is getting ready in the bedroom when the phone rings. I pick up. It's Jody.

"Wotcher buggerlugs."

"Hi Jody.How's it going?"

"Good. I'm just on my way in. Can you tell Vicky V that I'm going to be 30 - three-oh - minutes late? Can you pass that information on for me?"

"Are you driving at the moment, Jody?"

"Might be. What's it to you?"

"Driving while using your mobile phone is illegal you know."

"Jesus, have you turned into Glen or something?" says Jody. She laughs at me. This is followed by "Fuck!", then the prolonged tooting of a car horn, then Jody shouting "Wanker!"

"Told you."

"Yeah yeah. Just tell V I'm en route, yeah?"

Jody doesn't realise I have brilliantly outmanouevred her and am, as she speaks, handing the phone to V, who is in the bedroom getting ready. V rolls her eyes and mouths there's a surprise as Jody explains the situation. Then V's features light up.

"Awwww!" she cries into the phone. "She didn't, did she. Awwwwwww! The little button! Mr Schnookums!"

V turns round. She is sporting perhaps the sappiest look I have ever seen. When she comes off the phone she tilts her head, fixes me with a look that is part wistful, part crazed.

"Jody's late because Molly lost Mr Schnookums, her teddy bear, and thought he had died and gone to Heaven. How cute is that?"

"Sounds like a convenient excuse to me. You know what Jody's like."

"Ian told Molly that if he found Mr Schnookums first he was going to slow-roast him for three hours on a low heat and serve him with buttered Savoy cabbage and  celeriac mash. He and Jody have just had a huge fight. He really has no idea that boy. But isn't that just adorable Mark? Mr Schnookums? Awwww."

I retire hastily to the kitchen to attend to my low-fat lamb and mint burgers.

A few minutes later, V is heading out the door into the Hackney evening and I am discovering to my great disappointment that we have no fresh mint. Distraught, I realise I am going to have to order a curry.

By the time 9pm comes around I am groaning and possibly listing slightly on the sofa, having scoffed a chicken jalfrezi from Chutney’s, washed down by a few bottles of Kronenbourg. I flick through the cable channels and find myself strangely uninspired by the prospect of watching Dog, The Bounty Hunter and re-runs of The Water Margin. The only half-decent thing on is Parenthood, which I've seen about 179 times.

Despite this, I soon find myself semi-drunkenly chuckling at the telly. In no time I'm laughing out loud at the travails of the movie's extended family and their dysfunctional children, despite the fact that the phrase 'bittersweet comedy' usually makes me want to encase my head in concrete and emigrate to Malta. It's the Law of Steve Martin: Booze + Steve Martin = feelgood night. I drink more beer, and the Wolf Blass, and soldier on in a feelgood manner.

The film ends and I turn the telly off. Time for bed. Sitting on the sofa in silence, waiting for my legs to start working again, I enjoy a moment's contemplation. I actually quite enjoyed Parenthood. It has left me with a warm feeling which is definitely not related to the curry. I feel somehow nicer than I have for a while. Then, it hits me like a bullet. I'm feeling like this because I have realised...

...It would actually be quite cool to have kids.

On the lengthy journey between the sofa and the bed, the concept develops; there's me and V happily pushing a pram in Regent's Park; I'm splashing about in a swimming pool with giggling future child;  birthday parties with cakes; a bear called Mr Schnookums...no, not Mr Schnookums, that's alrady taken...Mr Jingles....no, that reminds me of The Green Mile and feels inappropriate...whatever; first day at school; yes, yes, yes! Now I get it! I stumble into bed and attempt to stay awake as I want to tell V the good news when she gets in. It'll make her deliriously happy. Minutes later, I am sleeping like, well, a baby.

Shortly after midnight, V shakes me awake.

"Evening!" she slurs noisily.

"Hi. How was the restaurant?"

"Great...[burp]...rum is strong. Got something to tell you."

"Ha! I've got something to tell you."

V shushes me.

"Having spent the last five hours listening to Jody mithering on about how expensive it is having children and how her sex life is moribund, I have decided I don't want to have kids. Let's stay free. Let's not have children!"

"Oh."

"Now what was your news?"

"We've run out of mint."

Comments

[JM]

Thanks Misty.

[Misty]

I've just come across your blog for the first time.

Thank you for making me laugh out loud!

[jonathan]

Ah, I'm sure it's just the rum and the Kronenbourg talking and you were both back to your your habitual indecision in the morning, at least I hope so, or you might have to change the name of the blog. Another well-worth-the-wait post though... I love the idea of those bylaws prohibiting gauche behaviour by people old and sophisticated enough to know better. And quite right too-I've been watching Hugh Fearnley- Whittingstall tonight on Channel Four and am so am resolutely anti-takeaways right now- I'm sure it will last at least until this time tomorrow...