You know that Chinese bloke on Inspector Clouseau? I think his name’s Cato. He’s got this arrangement with Clouseau that he surprises him at inopportune moments and launches into some martial arts mularky, the theory being that Clouseau sharpens his fighting skills, but of course he just ends up wrecking his gaffe. 
Well, Three is my Cato.
It started a few weeks ago when I was sitting working on the computer writing Mr Wolf (which you will be glad to hear is not far off being finished...). Suddenly I noticed something out of the corner of my eye and turned around and got the shock of my life – Three was just standing there silently at my side.
I told him, hamming it up for his benefit, “Oh! You shocked me! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” to which he falls about laughing.
The problem is, because he gets a laugh out of it, he’s stalking me all the time, creeping up on me, and sooner or later – as I’ve tried to impress upon him – he will give me a heart attack for real.
The last time it happened was two days ago when I was having a shave. As I was looking in the mirror and thinking how young I looked (I didn’t have my glasses on) I felt a tickle up my bare leg. Jesus! I nearly had a heart attack! Three thought it was hilarious but really he’s getting like one of those demonic children that used to appear in novels in the 1980s (how come there are no more demonic kids, I mean what’s the fictional world coming to...?).
The other day I heard Six and Three talking as they worked out if I’d be the Evil Wizard or an Elf in their upcoming war games and Three said, “Six, Daddy is going to have a heart attack. I keep shocking him.”
Six sighed with boredom having to explain to Three, “Look, Daddy is very, very old, but if he dies he will go to heaven. Then God will bring him back to life. That’s what happens, Three.”
“Oh,” said Three, “that’s good.”
“I know,” said Six, “God works miracles every day.”
Honestly, I have to get him out of that weekly school scripture lesson. Before I die.

In other news, I popped around to George’s the other day as I hadn’t seen him for ages, him being in the city and me now out on the edge of the universe (well, it takes three days to get anyone out here to fix anything, so it’s slower than getting a space shuttle up to the space station with spares).
He had his Merc broken into outside his house and unwisely had left his wallet and mobile phone in there, can you believe. I bought him the Burberry wallet years ago and it pains me to think some light-fingered git in the western suburbs is all flash with it now. Clearly crime pays...
Anyhow, George likes the idea of the Merc but not the bills that come with it so he had the smashed side window replaced by someone dodgy and now it squeals like a baby pig being slaughtered.
Maria – George’ wife, who is 27 years old – has just gone on a course of tablets which are making her shed pounds. Honestly I didn’t know such a thing existed and I had no idea doctors would prescribe it to young girls who can’t keep a rein on how many McD’s they eat. Really, I was as shocked as if Three had materialised beside me.