My mother is a 7th level practitioner of deadpan.
Mum’s Greatest Hits.
Sometime during my teens, after my father had died, I recall sitting with my mother in the front room, watching a film on the TV. We had reached the point in the proceedings when the male and female protagonists were becoming better acquainted with one another.
“Oh, dear,” sighed my mother. “I do hope that sex isn’t going to rear its ugly head.”
In addition to her ninja deadpan skills, my mother has an uncanny knack of conducting a conversation without paying a blind bit of attention to what is being said. During one such conversation, I had asked my mother`s opinion, presenting her with an option A or B.
“Which should I choose?” I asked.
“Yes,” was the answer.
“Yes, what?” I snapped, somewhat exasperated.