I THINK it was King Solomon who declared that a baby claimed by two mums should be cleaved in two in order to stop their whingeing and let him get on with his day.
Luckily the real mum stepped forward, asked him not to mince up the poor little tyke and the king came out looking like a real wise guy.
Why re-tell this fabulous stroke of luck? I know how he feels. But I also know he wasn’t dealing with two teenage girls.
I recently had two frantic calls from my daughters both in tears screaming at me because one of them had copped a $1000 fine due to the other one not wearing their seatbelt properly.
To add insult to injury it cost the driver all of her P-plate points. Ouchies.
I summoned the King Solomon in me and suggested they were both in the wrong, should split the fine down the middle and let me get on with my day.
That logic might have worked in ye olden days when lives were at stake, but all it did in this instance was put my own life at risk.
Apparently I was the monster for suggesting such a thing and both agreed the other one should rot in hell. It is yet to be solved but I’m open to solutions.
LIV and let die
All that might have put me in a bad mood when I sat down to watch the LIV tour played in Adelaide recently.
I don’t know what I was watching but whatever it was, was far too much. Of course it meant nothing – a bit like every Big Bash game ever – and it was a bit like being immersed in an unplayable video game. Again, what’s the point. The commentary was also sycophantic towards LIV to the detriment of actual analysis. And the reaction to a hole-in-one where everyone threw their drinks onto the hole? Spare me.