Sometimes it is just paranoia, other times it is a well-justified fear of the intrusive state and its power-hungry minions, but we do not laugh too loudly at their egregious doings just in case they are, indeed, listening devices in the wainscoting.
You never know who may be listening. Although, you do have to wonder why they bother, after all – if I remember correctly, despite your frequent protestations to the contrary – the last time either of us said anything of great interest was the long discussion about whether or not broccoli could be classed as a brassica sometime back in around 1988.
However, despite your pinpoint accuracy with sharply-hurled items of cookware, I am sure my more reasoned argument by use of the logical system first put forth by Aristotle in his Poetics, of pouring the ice-cold contents of the breakfast milk jug over your head, I think, carried the argument in my favour. Broadly speaking that is.
Although, to be fair, your subsequent well-aimed kick to my testicles did remind me of something along the lines of Gilbert Ryle’s infamous category mistake argument by way of refuting my thesis, and the subtle almost Nietzschean way you set about my head and neck with your baseball bat, did finally persuade me that you position was not as logically untenable as I’d originally argued.
Thus we were spared the somewhat undignified spectacle of having to resolve our dispute once again through the use of Hegalian dialectics and an exchange of small arms fire and hand grenades across the living room, as was the case when we tried to resolve our dispute over whether or not it was Jack Lemmon who stared in The Apartment back in the early summer of 1987.
As I said, just run-of-the-mill domestic trivia and of little or no interest at all to those ever-intrusive powers that be.
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