Went round for dinner with my favourite ex, the lovely Simon. Last time I saw him, Simon had just taken up with Panos, having dumped his drug-fuelled foursome with two air stewards and a children's book illustrator.
"Panos'll be round soon," said Simon, chopping vegetables in a way that made his biceps bulge. Actually, anything Simon does makes his muscles bulge. When he sneezes it's like seeing walnuts vacuum-packed. "Before Panos comes round, we should have a talk."
"Really?" I asked, watching a tiny muscle twitch on Simon's shoulder. It was the size of a large squirrel, and appeared to be looking for something.
"Now, don't think that Panos is afraid of girl-talk and plain-speaking, but he doesn't like to be reminded of the fact that I've got history."
Only Simon and Lady Diana could get away with the phrase "history".
"But, Simon - Panos met you at an orgy."
"You were lying on the floor."
"You were on crystal meth."
"There was a queue for you!"
"I know, but it was special."
"In god's name, how?"
"Panos jumped the queue. Greek men don't wait for what they want. As he got stuck in, I remember hearing a West Country voice yell, 'Oi! I've been waiting forty minutes for my go on that!'"
"And that's when you fell in love with him?"
"That's when it started, yes."