St Valentines Day Massacre!

The art of negotiation isn’t dead, but my skills are slipping a bit these days. Take this transcript of my discussion with Mrs Holic last night as an example of how not to do it!

Holic ‘Sweetheart, do you remember when we went to visit the boy when he lived up north?’

Mrs H ‘What’s brought this on then?’

Holic ‘I was just thinking about that little break on the end in Blackpool’

Mrs H ‘How could I forget. Cheap little B&B as I recall, you tight sod’

Holic ‘Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad. The lights, the big dipper, the Rovers Return’

Mrs H ‘I’m still a bit baffled about where this is going’

Holic ‘Well we’ve got a few years under our belt now, I was just thinking maybe we should celebrate Valentines Day with another little break’

Mrs H ‘Not another poxy B&B?’

Holic ‘No, no. We’ll grab a bit of luxury this time. Nice room, decent nosh, bottle of wine?’

Mrs H ‘You old smoothie, where were you thinking of going?’

Holic ‘Well how about a return to Lancashire?’

Mrs H ‘Not Blackpool again?’

Holic ‘Ok then, somewhere else up there beginning with B. How about Bolton?’

Mrs H ‘BOLTON! What the hell is in Bolton? If this is anything to do with Arsenal you’d better get some protection bucko, because you are just about to wish you were never born’

Holic ‘Calm down woman, Tell you what, we’ll just book into the local De Vere instead. Have a bit of comfort, not too far to travel, watch a bit of big screen TV?’

Mrs H ‘De Vere is good, but no TV mister. You are going to wine, dine, and romance me ok………OK?’

Holic ‘Yes dear’

As a result I am looking for one of my kind readers to provide a match report for the replay, which it would appear I will now miss. I should be able to cut and paste it in with my remaining arm, if I can hop into the office on my remaining leg.

Women truly are from Mars!