I am ecstatic! The Princess has just labelled me a grumpy old man. Just like that and all because I dared to refer to her favourite bloke, Daniel Craig, as a wuss.
If it wasn’t for advancing years and a hard unforgiving tiled floor, I would attempt a backflip. As it is, I shall be content with a knowing smile and another glass of best Aldi Chardonnay.
The truth is, I have always aspired to become one of that esteemed corps of individuals.
I watched the programme, Grumpy Old Men, religiously when it was showing on TV, but I never regarded it as a comedy show. To me it was more a collection of accumulated wisdom from enlightened men of a certain age.
I would nod my head sagely at the astuteness and acumen of those elderly blokes, whilst my wife choked on her gin and tonic and laughed her pop socks off at what she saw as a collection of daft old gits.
I have worked tirelessly to achieve my newly acquired status and it has been a long hard road of bellyaching, griping and nit-picking to get to this position.
I have always been a true admirer of good old English eccentrics, sadly a dying breed, but I realised long ago that eccentrics are born, not made. I simply do not have the required pedigree.
These are people who have a unique set of inbuilt rules and who, whilst not interfering with anyone else’s way of life, adhere to their own quirky set of standards and refuse to go along with society’s way of doing things.
In other words they don’t give a toss.
But in all honesty I could not see myself dropping in to Kwik Save to pick up my copies of the Euro Weekly News, wearing my wife’s slippers, a black basque and sporting a talking parrot on my shoulder who effs and blinds at passers-by.
I would find it deeply embarrassing whilst true eccentrics of course, would simply regard this as the norm.
So although I have long regarded myself as a leading contender in the cantankerous stakes, with my wife’s declaration it is now official.
The Princess has spoken and a Grumpy Old Man it shall be from now on.