Some time ago, on a Saturday night in Goody’s lounge, I invited a relative and his wife to have a pub lunch with us the next day. We were popping around to their place to collect another couple of relatives and I thought we could make it a sociable occasion.
‘Oh no, I don’t think so”, said Wife.
I’m fairly sure it was not her intention to be offensive, however, the turn of her countenance, the tone of her voice, combined with the derisive, humourless laugh that followed, was a definitive, “not fucking likely”.
Although I know that invites can, by their nature, be declined, the manner of the refusal was a very direct indicator of disdain and dislike.
I do not hold this against her, we all then knew where we stood and indeed stand. I do like clarity.
I was concerned that my face might have said “fuck you too”. I checked with Goodly, and apparently my face had remained impassive, but she did observe that my eyebrows had raised to unlikely heights.
We amused ourselves by spending the rest of the evening drinking, and offering each other things that might evoke such a response.
Shall I shit on toast for breakfast?
Oh no, I don’t think so.
Would you like me to poke out your eyes and feed them to the cat?
Oh no, I don’t think so.
Fancy a glass of warm piss?
Oh no, I don’t think so.
Anyhow, I tell you this story, not just so you can also spend a drunken evening finding disgusting things to offer your mates, but because, oh no, I don’t think so, is a very handy put down.
You may want to use it yourself, don’t forget the derisive laugh.
Here at the Tart residence, we’ve had cause to put it into play twice in the last two days. Once when a workman wanted £860 per day for moving a kitchen cupboard and laying some Lino. Then someone offering Cornflake work at half rate.
Fuck off mate, could be construed as impolite, whereas, I don’t think so, says fuck off, but allows all parties to maintain their dignity.
I highly recommend it.
Here’s some cabbages and roses, unrelated to the text, I know, but what the hell.
fat tart 