Matt Whistler finds things happen in threes

Where did you get that hat, where did you get that hat? After a disastrous gratin attempt involving spuds, cheese, a frying pan, one fire alarm and enough billowing smoke to recreate an Orient Express love scene, I decided to clear my lungs. Hmm, perhaps the market on the seafront sell clear lungs. En route I had a bad hat moment. Just at the point where your hands rest comfortably in your pockets followed up with some operatic whistling. (BTW random subliminal interjection – would anyone like to help me start a whistling opera? One
off event).

Continued… My hat blew off, rolled up the chuffin hill and giving chase made the whole thing worse and the wind became a metaphor for Candid Camera where every time you bend down to pick up a £50 note it gets pulled along by an evil assistant hiding behind a lamppost. OK, to the point Matt! The hat started to become a blip on the landscape, a mere speck of insignificant dust, a nut on a tripod in a media frenzy, an ant under a pie at a football match. It was stopped by an oncoming Datsun Sunny with bullet holes in the side.

I ran to my old friend, she was my red Trilby hat, flat as a pancake, battered and ruined, with a grubby tyre-track over the top. Add this to the fact that the most expensive cup of tea in Brighton turned out to be at my gaffe, when I knocked a cup of tea off a second floor windowsill and it spun through the air to smash through the rooftop of a Volvo, only to find out that the driver is not insured and it will cost me £150 to replace the sun roof.

Things happen in threes so I have decided to recreate the third thing, by buying a full English breakfast and pushing the serviette off the table onto my foot. But back to the hat dilemma. I had a goosie at Astrid Johnson’s stall, who is often seen selling flowers outside the tube station on EastEnders.
The problem was solved and I was accused of evil marketing for throwing in a fossilised pebble to a new punter after taking over the stall while being a general nuisance. The moral of the story is always wear your hat with a small piece of gaffer tape to hold it down.