IN WHICH I GIVE UP ALL SEMBLANCE OF MAKING SENSE
My blackberry beeped and there was a message from Him. I deleted it angrily without reading it. How dare he think he can casually send me messages? Does he not know how busy I am brushing my hair driving down the middle lane of the M1?
I prodded out a message with my thumb HOW DARE YOU BETRAY ME LIKE MY DRUNK SISTER THAT FALLS OVER. And then a man stopped and gave me flowers, saying I was warm, witty and that he tells everyone he meets how warm and witty I am. He also gave me 50p in case I went over a toll bridge somewhere murdery.
Lala, who mucks out, phoned me to say that the old mare had laryngitis again and should she call out the hostile vet? I snapped at her that I was brushing my hair on the M1 and was I expected to be responsible for everything? For sisters and mums and prawns and paws and rock star pretendy men? I slammed down the phone and would have cried but I was botoxed at Mr Shane of Wigmore Street yesterday and I can't close my eyes now.
I stopped off at a petrol station because my car dared to need refilling. On the wrong side. How am I supposed to know which side the petrol goes? If I were a white middle class man my sister or my horse would do it for me.
The RS suddenly appeared, and serenaded me about being warm and witty even though I've got "nae tits". That's the last time I take my vest off for him.