Editorial: Revenge served up hot

I've often thought what a nasty business it is seeing political parties go head-to-head in the interests of winning. But as dirty as the fight may be sometimes, John and David ain't got nothing on Jack and Jill. Especially playing Monopoly.

Domestic dispute and the push to be top dog of the family home is an insidious battle that asserts itself in all sorts of subconscious and usually innocuous ways; who makes the bed best, who mows the lawns shorter and just whose halo is shining brightest after a multitude of small but essentially insignificant tasks.

In the interests of team work and homely harmony, these niggles usually fly under the radar and are considered fairly petty complaints when raised.

That's why there is nothing quite like a good game of Monopoly to well and truly drop the start flag on the race to establish who of two is number one.

After the last of the banknotes was lost behind the couch way back when I counted my age in single digits, Monopoly was tossed out and all arguments about who was ripping off the bank were eventually put to bed.

The invention of iPad games has prompted a renaissance in childish pursuits and for only a couple of dollars we now have all of them back, but better. For a start, the banker is an incorruptible operating system.

Either the passing of time or a naive optimism that adults would behave more nobly than children saw me agree in a moment of madness to play a game with my boyfriend.

Several bitter and traumatic hours later, after he had wiped the board with my dignity and then gone back over it with my pride, I conceded defeat.

No bullet goes as deep as friendly fire and what started out amicably enough turned dark the moment I landed on Park Lane and paid the price.

The evil smile on my boyfriend's face spread outwards in inverse proportion to my shrinking finances.

When the game was put away he suggested we put away our new-found enmity along with it. But, of course, this is an easy point to pitch when you're the glorious victor and can hand out concession as easily as the hundred dollar bills stacked up in the virtual Monopoly vault.

After a night slept on different equators of the mattress and long lonely dates playing Monopoly against the computer, my boyfriend finally plucked up the courage to challenge me to a new game.

Although he knew I had a penchant for Piccadilly and utilities, he had until that point never known the side of me that all women scorned keep tucked in dark and dusty recesses until required. The vindictive witch who sat down beside him on the couch in place of his normally chilled out girlfriend was a revelation.

For me, revenge is a dish best served piping hot with a garnish of humiliation. Fuelled by my recent failure and a determination to save face, I took to building houses and hotels with the frenzy of a US property developer circa 2006, fat with sub-prime mortgage money.

When victory came, it was sweet. But like milk left on the bench on a hot day, it curdled quickly.

We might have both won a battle, but we'd started a war. Raising the white flag, I suggested a nice friendly game of Scrabble. With lots of buzz words like "sorry", "luvya" and "letsbefriends".

Which, of course, would depend entirely on how many points the victor won by.