Travelling Argument Breaks Record
Congratulations to Anthony Grease and his girlfriend Clara Goat who this week were recognised by the Guinness Book of Records for achieving the world's longest travelling argument. Anthony and Clara are well known characters in their home town of Newton-upon-Grime, where most of the inhabitants regularly hear them screaming obscenities at each other as they stagger home from the pub after closing time.
The distance from the local to their house is only about three quarters of a mile, but during particularly heated altercations they are able to greatly extend the ground they cover via various angry detours, backtracking or drunken meanderings. According to Guinness officials, retracing the route is a perfectly acceptable technique, but in order to qualify as a proper travelling argument the 'argue-ees' must maintain a constant stream of abuse, vitriol, angry outbursts and frustrated whining. Insults can be slurred but they must be shouted at a volume sufficient to wake residents at least three streets away.
Anthony and Clara are past masters at the form having been in a painful and acrimonious relationship for the past seven years. However, their record breaking effort was something special, clocking up an astonishing fourteen miles over the course of one evening as they wove erratically through the streets.
"Many of my friends concentrate on the ferocity of an argument," Anthony told us. "Either that or the duration. But with me it's all about the distance covered - it's a far greater challenge to clock up the miles. Many people think that weaving around in the middle of the night, hurling insults at your nearest and dearest is something that 'just happens' when you've had far too much to drink. But there's more to it than that. Take our last argument, for example - it all kicked off over the colour of our new bathroom carpet."
"No it bloody didn't," Clara interrupted.
"Yes it did, love."
"It chuffing well didn't," Clara insisted. "It was about what your friend Steve said at Abigail's wedding."
"Oh for crying out loud, not that again," Anthony protested. "Can't you just let it go, you dumb bitch?"
"Don't call me a dumb bitch, you dribbling sack of shite."
"Well don't call me a sack of shite, you donkey-faced excuse for a human being... You see, this is what happens. She always has to start something."
"Oh right, so this is all down to me, is it?" Clara asked.
"Jesus, give it a rest, why don't you."
And so it went for some time, or so we gather. This reporter left just as the phrase 'knock-kneed snotgobbling mutant' was being bandied about but our understanding is that at the time of writing Anthony and Clara are well on the way to beating their own record.