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My mother and idiot stepfather John called to see me yesterday. (Well, to be honest, I don’t think either of them are that bothered about seeing me; it’s Audrey they really come to visit.)

When they arrived, John thrust a box of Krispy Kreme Doughnuts at me. ‘Have one of these. They’re gorgeous.’

‘No thanks, John,’ I told him, ‘I don’t want to end up like one of the waddling spheroid people I keep bumping into around here. Anyway, I thought you were trying to lose weight?’

‘I keep telling him . . .’ my mum interjected, ‘what with his heart problems and everything . . .’

‘I’ve had three of the buggers already. Tell your mum a little of what you fancy does you good.’

‘Why don’t you tell her yourself, John?’

‘I can hear him you know. What did he say?’

‘Have you forgotten to put your hearing aid in again, mum?’

‘What? A bee? What bee? Where?’ She began vigorously wafting the air around her head. ‘I hate bees.’

‘I’ll have it, then, if nobody else wants it.’ John flopped down on my sofa, put his feet on my antique wooden coffee table and set about demolishing the last of the doughnuts. ‘Here you are, Audrey . . .’

‘What?’ I exclaimed. ‘You know she can’t have anything like that, John.’

‘Yeah, yeah, diabetic, I know.’ He mockingly made quotation marks with his fingers.

‘Why on earth where you going to give her a piece of your bloody doughnut, then?’

‘A little bit won’t hurt her.’

‘Good grief! When are you going to – ‘

‘What? Betty who? Who’s Betty?’ My mum called from the kitchen where she was busily putting the kettle on. She is always putting the kettle on, my mum is.

‘Nothing, mum.’

‘What?’

‘I feel a bit sick now. And you’re right, Davy-lad, I am supposed to be watching my weight. I feel a right fool now for eating all those.’

‘H’m.’

‘But I can’t help myself, you know. No will power. I seem to spend most of my life these days trying not to be an idiot.’

‘Really, John? How’s that working out for you?’