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Wednesday, September 22, 2004

The Spinning Jenny

My Evil Best Friend Declan phoned last night while I was on my way to the station. I was still a little worse for wear from the booze, and I was having to push off tramps who were leaning in far too close and trying to lick my sweat. I knew it was him as my mobile had started bleeding.

"Drunk last night, were we?"

You never knew whether he'd read the blog or one of his winged servants has dropped him a note. I groaned an affirmative scanned the sky, just in case, wishing I'd brought my tin hat with me. I inwardly cursed my receptionist who'd persuaded it out of me 'cause she needed a new hanging basket.

"So, everyone knows my secret when I'm pissed now."

The question was rhetorical, and convivial in phrase - which obviously meant trouble. It also meant that he'd been on the blog. Ah. I'd been taking steps to make sure he couldn't access it, but it seemed too much of a coincidence that he'd just moved his internet provider to 'Demon'. I attempted an apology, but he brushed it aside.

"I do have another tell, you know."

"You do?" I asked, mind whirring to try and change the subject. The only thing the gray, addled mush under my hair came up with was, 'Well, how about those Dallas Cowboys?' Stupid, stupid brain.

"Oh yes," he said. "It's when I really start fancying men."

Oh yes! I recalled an incident in a bar a couple of years ago where we were both several pints down. Of sherry, naturally, There was a gentleman leaning up the bar who kept looking over, but we weren't sure whether he was eyeing up myself or Declan's human form. We'd argued sotto voce about who he was looking at, I utterly convinced he was looking at me, Declan at him. At that point, Declan reached The Point of No Return, slammed down his glass and walked up to the gentleman. They spoke briefly, and then their lips were locked for the rest of the night.

"Oh yes! Your tongue - it starts going like a whirling dervish!" I said. "The sheer speed of it draws men in like a Dyson!" There were several 'Oofs!' added to that sentence as a rather fragrant hobo had got a whiff of me, and decided I was actually a big bottle of Diamond White. His hot breath on my neck was an odd distraction as I whirled around, trying to get away and continue the conversation.

"I prefer the term 'Spinning Jenny', and it is a trick that-" There was a pause. "What are you doing?"

"Beating off a tramp. Why?"

"Honestly. Your Wife goes away for a couple of days, and you really do sink to the depths, don't you?"

But he'd hung up before I could explain.

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