Never get between an Englishman and his crumpet
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I lay on my bed, in a daze, slipping in and out of an opiate induced sleep, noticing from time to time that Alex was there with me. The pain in my side (not Alex) was intense and very uncomfortable, the slightest movement, cough, or even clearing of my throat would send a spear into my groin. I had to be very careful to remain still and quiet.

I heard the background hiss of drizzle outside, another damp and gray London day; you have to love this tropical island we live on. Phil was home, off sick and as usual when he has a cold he puts on his cozy ware, which includes a wooly Arsenal hat and tracksuit top. I heard the plop of his flat feet make their way to the kitchen, I felt Alex get up off the bed and leave the room. A few minutes later she returned sniggering, telling me that he was sat in front of the oven trying to get the grill to work. For some reason, if the time is not set properly on the oven it does not function. Alex came back to bed and regaled how he became irate, swinging a chair across and planting himself steadily in front of the oven, I could imagine this perfectly. He had the instruction manual open and was doodling about with oven buttons and switches, eventually flinging the manual away. As we chortled about this I told Alex to be careful, please not to make me laugh as it was painful. Phil was in need of tea and crumpets.

Minutes later I heard a loud, dull thud and then a hearty thump. The flat seemed to go dark, everything fell silent, there were no mutterings coming from the kitchen. I called out to Phil but there was no answer, so I called out again. My calls were met by silence. I wanted to get up and take a look but I couldn't so Alex got up at which point there was an outburst of swearing as Phil went thundering past my bedroom door, I asked if he was OK and I heard him mutter something about a major electric shock.

Alex went to investigate.

Phil had been poking the reset button with a metal device and received a shock which had thrown him off his chair and on to the floor. The crumpets were still in the oven, cold and uncared for. Phil was on the phone to the landlord trying to get instructions on how to get the oven going.

Alex and I laughed so much that I began to cry from pain, begging her to stop. I think I was more impressed by the fact that someone who wasn't English could see that you should not get in the way of an Englishman and his crumpets, especially not on a rainy day. All of that for a crumpet and tea.

It was funnier at the time, but I cannot forget this as I shall laugh heartily at the thought of it for a very long time to come.