Snookered?

In Competition No. 2445 you were given a dozen words and invited to incorporate them, in any order, in a plausible piece of prose, using them in a non-snooker sense.
Despite the fact that occasionally someone writes to complain that this is a boring type of comp, this week’s entry was the largest ever, nigh on 200. To avoid an outbreak of salaciousness I deliberately denied you the chance to use screw as well as kiss in a non-snooker sense, and the result was refreshingly clean and various. Among those who delighted me with their ingenuity I single out Noel Petty, Robert Kingston, Mae Scanlan and G.M. Davis. The prizewinners, printed below, get £25 each, and the bonus fiver goes to Derek Morgan for a seemingly effortless episode of domestic banality.

‘Kiss me, Gerald. I’m just off for some retail therapy. That’s your cue for the housework. Don’t worry, I’ll leave some cash for your pocket money. There’s the washing up — don’t break a pot like you did last time. Hoover the carpets, smooth the loose covers and plump up each cushion …’
‘But …’
‘Be sure to dust the picture frame. I’m sure a spider’s built a web there …’
‘But …’
Now don’t balk at a spot of domestic duty! In the kitchen you can clean the hob on the Cannon, and don’t forget to telephone the builder, the one by the bridge, and tell him to hurry up that estimate for the extension …’
‘But …’
‘Now the quicker you’ve finished — although I’ll be checking on my return to see that everything’s satisfactory — the quicker …’
‘Yes, dear.’
‘…you’ll be able to sit down for a minute and watch your precious snooker on television.’
Derek Morgan