'But then - get this ...' he says, and I stop winding to show I am all ears, but I can feel that the can opener has lost its grip on the can slightly, and I am annoyed. I shake my head and look to the ground, in a can't-believe-she-did-that way, but really, I'm looking at the can and trying to get the opener back on. I manage it, and begin to wind, but immediately it pops out again.

'Dammit,' I say, and once again, my friend says, 'Exactly.' He continues to talk, and I force the opener to bite into a new part of the lid, but the same thing happens again.

Who invented this? I think.

'And do you know what she said?' says my friend, selfishly interrupting my important thoughts.

'No?' I say, and then try and find another area for the can opener to try.

'She said it was my fault!' he says.

'No!' I say, and then I smile, because I'm in again! He laughs and I laugh and then we are two men laughing.

'But ...' he says, and I look down at the can. I've managed to cut into the lid maybe six or seven times around one side. If I can just cut in between them and link all the cuts together, I can do this ... so I focus on the can, but keep shaking my head while my friend talks, and I use the opener to make more little cuts until I'm three-quarters of the way round. Almost there! All I now have to do is force the lid down! But I must wait for my opportunity. I look my friend in the eye while he enters Stage 4: why he should have known things weren't going so well. But this is a tricky stage, because it's full of regret, and blame, and angst, and I have to wait until the second he's lost in his own thoughts ...

'And that was it, you know?' he says, finally. 'She was gone ...'

He looks away, tears in his eyes, and I press down hard on the lid ...

Ffffffblat.

This is awkward.

I now have freshly chopped tomatoes up my shirt, up my face, on my glasses, and there is a streak of freshly chopped tomatoes heading up the wall. There is tomato on the ceiling and a piece in my ear.

It seems when you force your hand into a can of freshly chopped tomatoes, the freshly chopped tomatoes are quick to find somewhere else to go.

When he looks back at me, he just blinks. We stare at each other. What do I say? We were on Stage 4! You can't introduce slapstick on Stage 4!

'Women,' I say, again, and there's a pause.

'Exactly,' he says.

CAREERS

It is a little after ten o'clock at night, and I am riding a loud and clattering overground tube back to North London.