He noted the situation had become grim/concerning/chucklesome.
He had spent the last half hour arguing the point, which by now had become obscured in the miasma of words being uttered by our old friend Crust.
Crust whose name was Eleanor Louise Epicton but had always been known as Crust.
She had a crusty personality, quick to criticise and always with an opinion more often than not contrary to everyone else’s.
Listening to her he couldn’t help but feel the situation had become chucklesome. She was making no sense, he knew she knew she wasn’t as well but was continuing in her argument that black could be white and or up could be down.
There was no doubt she had a wonderful grasp of language and could twist and beguile you in ways you never anticipated.
It wasn’t uncommon to get so exasperated by her that you wanted to resort to a few well known expletives and leave her to it but just as your own exasperation levels were being exceeded there’s be this look on her face betraying her joy at what she had just put you through. More often than not she would say something to mediate the situation and admit the silliness of her argument but at the same time acknowledge she had led you a merry chase.