Moyra Melons was not pleased with her husband, Roger. She had got a small minicab firm up and running rather well. Roger was helping her, but his knowledge of radio use was poor. This had been leading to confusion. Moyra decided to call him into the office and have a few words.
As he came through the door, she asked him to lock it.
“I don’t think anyone will be coming back yet, but I would prefer to talk about this without unexpected interruption,” Moyra added.
“Oh,” replied Roger. Her husband raised an eyebrow wondering what it was all about. He sat down in the chair before her desk and radio equipment.
He cleared his throat and then looked at his wife, Moyra. “What’s this all about then?”
Moyra stared straight back at him and asked. “Why can’t you roger me?”
Roger coughed and was taken by surprise. He quickly looked out of the window and noted the emptiness of the streets. He came over in a hot flush and replied. “Well I do,” he replied. “But surely you don’t mean here?
Moyra looked astonished and then got cross. “I mean it here at all times. All the other blokes do. Why can’t you? Am I wearing the wrong earrings? Tell me? Give me a clue?" She added sarcastically.
“What!” retorted Roger? He was quite flabbergasted.
Moyra continued. “When you use the blooming radio and you have finished what you are saying, you say ‘roger.’ It means over to me. Have you not heard me saying, “Is that a rog, Roger?”
“Oh,” replied Roger feeling a little relieved with this new knowledge. He had definitely got crossed wires for a moment. “I can assure you it is nothing to do with your wonderful earrings.”
Moyra went on. “I don’t want to keep saying the same old thing.”
“The same old thing?” muttered Roger who was only just beginning to recover from his initial shock.
“Yes,” replied Moyra as she burst into a little chant.
“No more:
Is that a rog - Roger?
Do the rog – Roger,
Do the rog.”
He looked confused and raised an eyebrow again. “Oh well, yes. What have you been saying then?” He grinned. “Can you run that one passed me again please?”
Moyra repeated:
“Is that a rog – Roger?
Do the rog – Roger
Do the rog.”
A great weight seemed to fall from Roger. “Oh well, I’m sure I can remember to roger you, Moyra. I was a little confused at first. But I get the picture now.”
“How could you get confused about making sure you roger me?” asked Moyra. “You are no good if you can’t roger me.”
Her husband stood up and dropped the office blinds. The door was locked and he decided he might need a little more privacy to show Moyra the substance of his confusion. About making sure he would roger her. There was an interlude in which the reader must adhere to the married couple’s privacy, but I would imagine one might get the idea. Moyra certainly did.
Afterwards, the lady and her sparkling earrings understood. Moyra had a windswept look and she suspected her husband might be back the next day for a further telling off. I think under the same circumstances, I might pretend to be a slow learner. On the radio front and saying 'Roger' all the time, that is. How about you?
