Whizz has a new woman. Her name is Alexa. Actually, I quite like having her around the place. She helps out in the kitchen, keeps us informed about the weather prospects and is incredibly musical.
I first found that my husband was messing around with Alexa, on my return home after a weekend in Somerset with Horace. There was this ‘person’, installed in my home without a by your leave. I was shocked. When I complained, Whizz was defensive. I’ve had my eye on her for ages,’ he said.
‘Well we haven’t discussed it. It’s a blooming cheek,’ replied I, showing considerable self restraint as I looked her up and down. I had to agree that she was more attractive than the last one. Yes Whizz is a serial ‘womaniser’ He is a slave to the brothel they call Amazon.
Alexa is the voice of the Amazon Echo, a hands-free, voice controlled speaker. You can say to her, ‘Alexa, play me some Leonard Cohen,’ and she will reply in a voice straight out of some 1960s B movie, ‘Playing Leonard Cohen on Spotify.’ I might say ‘Set timer for 10 minutes’, or ask for the weather forecast and she will provide the service. Today, however, she has overstepped the mark. There I was, telephone pressed to my right ear, confirming an appointment, when she suddenly blurted out ‘What did one eye say to the other eye? Between you and me, something smells.’ . This threw me completely. I couldn’t hear the woman on the phone but I bet she was perplexed to hear Alexa. Something I said must have sounded like ‘Alexa, tell me a joke’.
As Whizz remarked when I told him, ‘Typical woman. Always butting in when she’s not asked.’ He’s such a wag.