Charles and Tom are best friends who found themselves with a couple of months to kill in between graduating from
In preparation for their Herculean task, Charles and Tom have had some couples therapy. God love ‘em. Couples therapy is not an easy undertaking, and is only ever marginally less stressful for the therapist. Given that it involves parading your finest moments in front of a third party, for most couples it is usually something of a last resort balanced precariously between calling the divorce lawyer and buying the strychnine. Couples either argue so violently you need the skills of a boxing referee or refuse to speak until it feels like pulling teeth. (This is not a criticism, by the way. I have great admiration for couples who are willing to involve a therapist in their most private moments.) But boy oh boy, I wish I wish I wish I had gotten that gig. Picture the scene: two marvellous specimens of our finest public school system, eager and willing to go.
Therapist: Charles, what would you like Tom to know about you before you start on your journey?
Charles: Well, I’m a frightfully decent chap, but nanny used to beat me every night with a wooden spoon and I’m afraid it’s become rather a custom.
Therapist: How do you feel about that, Tom?
Tom: Oh thank goodness for that, Charles. I was worried you might have some strange habits.
Charles and Tom are thus well prepared to spend several naked weeks together in a space the size of a public toilet cubicle. They apparently, and I quote: ‘plan to have small diversions to relieve the possible tensions and boredom.’ Sometimes you just don't need to make it up.