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Is that the Trevi Fountain over there?

I’m not all that confident that this will translate into print, being one of those classic ‘you had to be there’ kind of stories. But the truth is, it’s not about the story. It’s about teaching that lowlife, slack arsed, luddite best friend of mine a lesson.

I have been telling him for over a month now that if he doesn’t look at my blog (I’ve got a sitemeter and I’m trying to make it look impressive, so every bit helps) I will write an expose about him. So far no sign of him, so here it is.

ET and I have many shared interests, but its our differences that have made us friends for so long, kind of like we’re the yin to each other’s yang (hmm that doesn’t sound too good, I just know pamela’s going to ask me which side I part my hair, again). Fact is, I’m a knockabout sort of Aussie guy, while he’s one of those bon vivant types. For him its wine, women and song, whereas for me it’s beer, the old lady and tv. Speaking of wine, he loves the stuff with a passion, it’s a shame it thinks so little of him.

Apart from being one of the most cultured people I know, ET is also one of those very engaging conversationalists that give you the impression that they’re actually interested in what you’re saying. Sadly, I on the other hand, have a habit of walking away while someone’s talking to me if I’m starting to get bored. Must be ADHD or something.

One day we were at a party at a friends house and ET was at his charming best, for you see as long as we’ve been friends, he’s been in a relationship with the same woman (they got married about a month after us, but they were together for about ten years before), so in all the time I’ve known him, has never had that stench of desperation that single men have when trying to talk to women.

So here we are in the kitchen after consuming copious amounts of wine, talking to two friendly girls. ET is leaning against the sink regaling them with one of his many stories, when all of a sudden in mid sentence he puts his hand up as if to stop traffic and says “Excuse me” and then calmly turns around and does the best impression of one of those fancy fountains that I’ve ever seen. I’m talking about a stream of liquid so perfect in it’s trajectory that you can’t help but marvel at the engineering involved in making it. I’m telling you, it was an ephemeral work of art! The main difference being of course, that most fountains use clear water and ET’s was more like that red cool-aid colour.

Having produced one of the all time great works of performance art, he turned back around and continued the story at the exact spot he was at before he paused to fill the sink. For the next few minutes he calmly talked and cleaned at the same time so that by the time he was finished the story, the sink was sparkling. The girls were too stunned to say anything and I just buckled at the knees and ended up on the floor in hysterics.

There is an addendum to this, but I’ll give him one more chance before I write it.