I opened the freezer today in search of ice-cream. Brownie ice-cream. Deliciously unhealthy. I found, in its place, a little golden head-and-shoulders "statue" of a footballer. Terry. Not that I know who he is.

In the freezer. A footballer's head. Frozen.

Me: Why is this there? *points and gapes and tentatively touches*

Brother: Oh. I put it there.

Me: ...

Brother: Well, I wanted to see what happens to it in the freezer.

Me: Nothing. It freezes. It's cold.

Brother: *disregards my sensible statement* Also, England lost. I thought he deserved the freezer. And he was sent off.

Me: ...!

This reminds me of the time my sister and I watched the film Girl Interrupted when I was twelve. A German friend of the family walked in and saw us cowering on the sofa, and said in a strong, wonderful German accent:

Scary film? We nodded and huddled closer together.

Put it in the freezer then. Said matter-of-factly, straight face, etc. We stared at him, astounded.

It works. I do it all the time. Needless to say, we didn't. I would still quite like to know whether it works, though.