an answer to the grand questions of existence

Coffee with the Clerk of Works.
He is looking kinda rheumy eyed.
"Heelers," he says. "Yesterday you asked my advice. You asked me did you think you should stop mentioning Monica Leech on your blog. I told you in no uncertain terms that you should never mention her again. You asked me whether you could chance one last mention for the road. I told you not to. You asked whether it would make any difference if you called her Monica Bleach instead of using her real name. I told you it wouldn't. You asked my opinion so presumably you were interested in hearing it. Yet today on your blog I find you have absolutely ignored my advice. Why? Why ask me and then ignore me?"
I drew a breath.
"Well Clerky old pal," I replied. "You gave me your very fine advice which I appreciated mightily. You then ruined any chance of me taking the aforementioned advice by bursting your hole laughing when I told you the joke about giving the kid one hundred grand and telling him to run down to the shops and buy a Ferrari."