Tick-tock mockery clockery

As an important agonising Uncle, I owe it you - my faithul lap-dog readers - to apologise for the late arrival of this posting.

In a vain attempt to pull the old April Wool over my head, my arch-enemy and life-partner Mr Ben"jam"in Thomas went round Derrig Towers in the early hours of this morning and put all the clocks forward one hour. It was some ridiculous attempt to make me lose an hour in bed.

But I had the last laugh! For why? Let me enlighten you.

Firstly, he had to get up earlier than me, leaving plenty of room to stretch out and wiggle me crustaceous toes in the furthest-most corners of the old King-Size.

Secondly, he had to adjust over fourteen clocks, the central heating system timer, the VCR player clock, and all four of my wristwatches, and Little Ben - the mechanism on the clock spire of Derrig Towers. Quite some fiddling about, even for him.

What he seems to forget is that the clocks went back last Saturday night! (It's easy to remember - I do it by an old poetry-related trick my father taught me as follows: "Spring back, Fall forward, But the other way round, That's how the clocks get wound.")

It follows therefore that I gained an extra hour on Sunday morning when I, myself, put the clocks back. But this ante-meridian-ness I was asleep when he went round and performed his act of deception this morning, so I didn't actually notice losing the hour. Whereas, of course, he did.

Which makes him quite the April Fooled and not yours truly!

No wonder he looks so peevish today.