Emission Impossible

Shattered after Fahrenheit 911, I took in a last quick drink in a bar called Mood. Typical for Scotland, doubles were cheaper than singles (£2 rather than £3, oh my giddy head), and, it was almost empty.

Three lasses patrolled the dancefloor, whooping, and there was a table of Nicely Dressed Young Men. Weirdly, they invited me over. This would never happen in London. They were all charming and entertaining, but soon I was left alone at the table with a man called James Bond.

As I've said before, getting off with someone of the same name is a treat. And in this case - how could I refuse?

Of course, he looked nothing like Piers Brosnan. Just your typical charming 21 year old with nice hair and a winning smile and an ex boyfriend. Oh, did I forget to mention the ex boyfriend? Well, oddly he didn't. At every available opportunity.

Things were going very well between us. He was buying me drinks and I was smoking his Lambert and Butler without gagging. Then, all of a sudden, his ex wanders over and makes polite conversation, and the evening goes downhill faster than you can say "Behold my tank of piranhas, Mister Bond."

It appears that James and Steven were having some trouble remaining friends. It all seemed very complicated and a little boring. Something to do with Steven's new boyfriend Alan, a girl called Cheryl, and James's other friend Steven's mate Liam. At some point during the discussion James bolted to the bathroom, with his ex in tear-stricken pursuit.

We all think we're the hero of our own lives, but quite often we appear to have the odd celebrity cameo in someone else's. In this case, I definitely felt like Whoopi Goldberg dropping into the studio while her dry cleaning was being done.

Eventually, James emerged. I did what Whoopi would have done, and did my understanding martyr expression (perfected from over two years of losing in conversation with Lee). He was having none of it. "It's all sorted and settled mate, honest. You're taking me home now."

And I did. Beyond a brief stopover on a traffic bollard that it's perhaps best not to discuss.

We get back to the flat. We get naked. And then he suddenly looks up. "I've got to text my flatmate, so that he can deadbolt the door."

He switches on his phone, starts to text. And then goes suddenly quiet. He'd got a text from Liam saying that Steven's Alan had been seen by other Steven getting off with Cheryl in Moods. When it was a fact according to Colin and Trish that Alan was in CC's that night. So he couldn't have. And anyway, it was all messy and complex, but it meant that Liam needed sorting now, before Liam went and confronted Steven, cos if Steven knew what Steven had been saying...

Oh, look anyway, the point is he pulled on his clothes and ran out into the night. Which proves neatly what I'd forgotten from years ago - never dally with widows.