The obsession with Star Wars has gone up a notch, and I now no longer spend any time with the family as they’re always sitting around watching Star Wars DVDs.
That, or they’re cutting each other’s heads off with Light Sabers (or Light Savers, if you prefer), fashioned out of my dusting wand, the insides of rolls of wrapping paper, manky old straws found whilst walking up the street and, in one extremelyconcerning instance, a penis (one of their own, thankfully). I don’t want to know any more about the thought that went on behind that.
All talk has turned to Star Wars, of which I have nothing to add, other than “Isn’t Harrison Ford hot!?” which they just don’t understand or appreciate. It appears our ability to communicate has deteriorated.
Or has it?
I have somehow managed to improve their table manners and actually get them eating with cutlery. I put on my Obe One Kanobe (is that how you even spell it?) voice – assuming it’s him that says it, and I actually sound like him, point the confiscated