Matt has finally realised that Lilian is having an affair with his brother, Paul. After a few vicious golf swings in the shrubbery, he booked a surprise holiday in Istanbul. My knowledge of Istanbul is not extensive and drawn almost wholly from PG Wodehouse. Bertie Wooster believed they put aunts in sacks and dropped them in the Bosphorus. Jeeves, while not querying the method of disposal, opined that they were probably odalisques. It is also an immemorial way of killing cats. And pusscat is, of course, Matt's pet name for Lilian.
Matt has also arranged for Paul to have a visit from a hitman called Mikey. Happily, Mikey seems a very substandard sort of thug, tending to report back that he rang the bell but Paul wasn't in and what should he do now, please? You have to ask yourself if Mikey is really cut out for this line of work. As "Monsewer" Eddie Gray of the Crazy Gang, having listened to a friend of mine struggle through her first interview, once asked solicitously: "Have you considered juggling?"
Not only is Matt lashing his scaly tail, but Paul, hitherto an almost irritatingly tender lover, is also showing the cloven hoof. Never was their brotherhood more apparent but, like the Kray twins, one is actually off his head. You start to back away from Paul slowly, feeling for the doorknob behind you without ever taking your eyes off him.
Helen Archer's romantic dinner with Jono ended during dessert. She told him her first lover shot himself, which he took like a man. Then he asked about her son's father and (despite the whole nation crying with one voice: "Don't mention the turkey baster!") she mentioned it. Since which Jono hasn't called or texted.
Meanwhile, back on the farm, this month every conversation starts "Yer Dad's started silaging yet?" Or "When do you start silaging?" Or, more brusquely, "You didn't come round just to ask about my silaging, did you?" Try this gambit on your friends. You may well find it reduces them to a very satisfactory silence.