Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Middle-Aged Again

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."

"How romantic."

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