Stop mentioning the lipstick, Rob!

I got into work this morning and initiated a conversation with the Rob. Usually it's an insult/retort, counter-insult/counter-retort cycle which quickly degrades into swearing, a verbal scrap so to speak.

This morning was different. It began with my colleague complaining of vet fees - Rob's dog Jess has been limping, and an x-ray under sedation for the hound set Rob back 150 quid. But why, oh why the FUCK, Rob, did you have to start talking about your fiancé's parents' dog's donger? Why in the name of spinning shit did you have to talk about it's lipstick?!

You can fuck off if you think I'm going to make the tea now. It's your turn. Please don't stir it with your pink spoon.