You may – indeed – have the knees of a semi-professional stoat auditor, but I have seen the state of your kitchen utensil drawer, so there is little of any great consequence you can impart to me about some of the great Western philosophers. However, should you make your case eloquently enough I may just concede that your knowledge of delphiniums may – one day – be of some use to humanity, especially when you stand out on the edge of the ring road clutching your carpet tile and mango sandwiches in such a beguiling manner.
We have seen so much together you and I, it would be a shame – at this stage in our relationship – if we let the paltry matter of your dalliances with a Latvian traditional elbow dancer and part-time structural engineer come between us. After all, he seems to know little of the dark and secret art of how to arrange his jars of jam in strict alphabetical order. I know how much it disquiets you when I make a mock of his preserve-arrangement skills. But you must ask yourself the question: would you, could you, ever be happy with someone so obvious far too lax in his placement of his home-made gooseberry jam?