There was a potential crisis in the making, yesterday morning, when one man who was in an extreme rush to get out of the house to go somewhere, was forced into a delay when he couldn't find his fucking keys.
An excursion, with his wife and two children, into the pleasant, green Cambodian countryside was in the offing for Moys Kenwood, 56, but not without locking the door first.
With his wife already showing irritation by revving the balls off the motorbike on the road outside, the hapless Kenwood searched high and low.
They weren't on the table, or on the top of the fridge - two popular locations where the Kenwoods' keys are regularly dumped - and they weren't in the pockets of any trousers. Cupboard tops and drawers were scoured, window sills, floors, decorative pots, cups, shoes ... in fact, everywhere that the keys could, potentially, have been misplaced.
Finally, Kenwood realized, they were probably already in the doorlock itself. He raced there - in vain - the lock stared at him, keyless. He went outside to inform his wife of the bad news.
As he braced himself, his daughter, Delma, 5, asked what he was doing that was taking so long. Kenwood explained that he couldn't find his keys to lock the door.
She held up something that glinted in the sunlight, and said:
"You mean these, Daddy?"