Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Dead Away

I fainted this weekend. First time.

I mean, of course I've swooned - I've been in the same room as Ryan Phillipe, don'tyaknow - but there's a whole world of difference between the two. A swoon involves making sure that you're standing in front of a gentleman who you can guarantee is a) stronger than you, and b) is paying enough attention to catch you as you start to sink to the ground, hand to your forehead, with a protracted 'Oohhhh...'. I feel there's something old-fashioned, something proper about swooning. We should do it more often. When we're told the price of rounds in London bars. Or upon being presented with comically-shaped vegetables.

Fainting is the swoon's more dirty-finger nailed cousin. I was standing in the Wife's bathroom when an awful malaise suddenly overtook me, a blackness clouding my vision and causing my knees to buckle. My two thoughts as I dropped like a stone were: 'Well, this is new - let's try and not hit our head on the toilet seat, eh?' and 'Is there no way I can turn this into something glamorous?' Mostly because my trousers were halfway down. And you don't get that in a Bronte novel, do you? I've never read of Jane Eyre flopping onto the chaise-lounge with her kecks at half-mast, arse sticking skyward as she waits for the housekeeper to help her up. Though I can't help but feel it would make the whole book a darn sight more enjoyable.

I am feeling a little better now, thankyouforasking - and I feel I can recognise the signs of any fainting, so they will gladly be done in the style of a dead swoon. And it's also a good excuse to stand in front of our new, burly sales manager, coughing lethargically into a lace hankie. Well, I do need to test his reactions. So if you'll excuse me...


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