Peculiar Lady: Excuse me, are you on TV?
Me: Not as often as I think I ought to be, no.
Peculiar Lady: But you are on TV, then?...
Me Not as such, no, unfortunately.
Peculiar Lady: So you are not that TV detective?
Me: No, regrettably, I am not.
Peculiar Lady: Are you sure?
Me: Pretty sure. Ask my wife if you don’t believe me. (pointing at Astrid)
Peculiar Lady: Is that your husband?
Astrid: Yes, unfortunately
Peculiar Lady: Is he a TV detective?
Astrid: No, he’s a teacher.
Peculiar Lady: OK then. Here’s my stop. Nice talking to you.
That could – and indeed should – have been the end of the story, but we were staying with friends, and back at their flat, the conversation went thus:
Astrid: A funny lady on the bus thought Desmond was a TV detective!
Me: I thought it might be Inspector Morse…
Enid (former) friend: No, he’s much too good-looking.
Astrid: Who could it be, then?
Me: That Jersey guy?
Astrid: No, he’s too slim and has nice hair.
Me: How about Shoelace?
Enid: You mean Shoestring. No! He is a real hunk.
Astrid: So who could it be?
Enid: I was thinking it might be Inspector Frost. He’s not very handsome, is he?
Me: I’m still here and can hear every word.
Astrid: Yeah, I think it must be Frost. Or that fat bald guy in NYPD Blue?
Me: I’m going to bed.