I found a large sack on onions on the kitchen table this morning. It seems that Judy has been chatting with out local farmer and has decided that there’s going to be a regular ‘Judy Makes’ segment on the show. She’s been trying to perfect her mother’s recipe for onion soup and intends to make it on the first show of the new series.
‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ I told her as I poured myself a coffee. ‘Excellent work. Don’t know why we hire so many researchers when we’ve already got brilliance on the Madeley premises.’
She blushed. ‘It’s just something I’ve been thinking of doing for a while.’
I waited to allow my congratulations to sink in. She suddenly paled.
‘Oh no,’ she said.
I held up my hands. ‘You know the deal, Judy. If you get your own segment to do what you want, then I get a segment to do what I want. It’s written in both contracts, TV and marriage.’
She began to tremble as she man to fondle a large onion. ‘So what will you do?’
I pushed my hands into my pockets and walked to the kitchen window. The garden looked wonderful, touched by winter frost and the sunshine and all…
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about little people,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You know... Like midgets.’
She dropped an onion and, together, we watched it roll across the kitchen floor.
‘Midgets,’ I said again and walked from the room.
Half an hour later, I had a phone call from the producer on holiday in South Africa.
‘What’s this I hear about midgets?’ she asked. ‘You do know that it’s not the politically correct term.’
‘Have you heard about Judy’s plans for her onions?’ I calmly replied.
‘Her onions are gone,’ said the producer. ‘I’ll tell her than Channel 4 have a no onion policy before seven o’clock at night. The onions are history.’
‘Well so are my midgets.’
She rang off.
After I’d finished reading the paper, I wandered back into the kitchen where I found Judy crying.
‘Don’t be like that,’ I said. ‘You know this is a team. We can’t go off doing things on our own. People need to think we’re joined at the hip.’
‘I’m not crying at that,’ she said. ‘I’ve rubbed onion into my eyes.’
I wrapped my arm around her and gave her a good squeeze. ‘Now do you see why I had to act.’
‘I suppose,’ she smiled.
‘And that’s why I always have the better ideas,’ I added to make sure I'd made my point.
‘What do you mean?’ she sniffled.
‘Well,’ I said, giving her a hug, ‘when have you ever been made to cry because you’ve stripped a midget?’