Twice

"Excuses, excuses..."

Repetition enhances a rebuke. Saying something once could be an aberration or a slip of the tongue.

"Excuses..." is quite good. It suggests you think someone is making excuses. It suggests it, but it doesn't guarantee it. Leave no room for doubt. "Excuses, excuses..."

They will know they are making excuses. Risible excuses. Excuses that need to be exposed for the sick, meagre, cowardly weapons they are. Twice.

And what is true of excuse rebukes, it is also true of comfort.

"There, there..."

We've all been reassured by that. Perhaps a parent has said it after we complained about being taunted on the basketball court.

"There, there..."

It's a double-dose of comfort, understanding, empathy, support and optimism for the future. And you need that double-dose. The singular is inadequate.

What mother would cheer up her bruised daughter by saying simply "There..."?

I'll tell you what mother. The worst mother.

"There..." will not dry those tears. "There..." will not provide the promise of a sunny day.

There WHAT, mother? There WHAT? What does that mean? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!

"There, there..."

Oh, I see. Thank you. Yes, it's all fine now. I'll flush all of those razor-pills down the sink and learn to knit.

Don't leave any room for doubt. Whether mocking someone for their inadequate explanation, or stroking the hair of a devastated five-year-old, always say it twice.

But this tactic doesn't work for everything. In certain contexts, repetition is more of a hindrance than a help.

Numbers, for example, should only be said once. If someone asks you what number flat you live at, saying "sixteen, sixteen..." will be misleading. Similarly, if someone asks you how many bags of seeds you want, saying "five, five..." will leave you with a confused garden centurion and way too many seeds.

***

I don't charge for my advice, but perhaps I should.

If you'd like to make a contribution to the Headscissors Wisdom Fund, please push three British ten-pence pieces into your computer. This can be done through the disk drive, or through a hole you make yourself.

If you live in a country without British ten-pence pieces (Begypt, for example), please send a selection of your local currency to the below address:

Headscissors Blog
16, 16 Mockingbird Court
North Lousy
Cegypt
(Our Waxahachie office is currently closed due to persistent toilet corpses)

All money raised will go towards the dissemination of wisdom, both domestic and elastic.

***

I'm delighted with how the day has gone so far. Splendid. Simply splendid.

Well.

No point in hanging around when the job is done. A builder doesn't stand around after completing a house, patting himself on the back and smiling at the plaster. A chef doesn't watch you eat his delicious meal through a camera mounted in the balsamic vinegar. A surgeon doesn't pat you on the abdomen five years after removing some shrapnel from your lung.

And, similarly, I, having written one Hell of a blog post, and having, some might say, used a few too many commas, will not continue writing, unbidden, and undo all of the good work I've done, by hanging around and glorying in my, not inconsiderable, achievements.

I just salute, climb into the side-car of a motorcycle being ridden by a sword, and then head off to the next job. You enjoy it. You deserve it.

I don't do this for the money. I do it for something more important than money: respect.

And your three British ten-pence pieces.

Each.