I’m enjoying the single life. Well, more accurately I’m enjoying having some arm muscle definition
and a single life. The two seem to go hand in hand (or rather arm in arm). I’m invited to more things après breakup. Next Friday I not only have a lesbian hen night to attend but I’m also personally invited, nay required, for a swanky new night where the invitation stipulates “there will be no entry without a gorgeous girl in 6 inch stilettos on your arm, unless, of course, you are one… This is a marvelous chance for all our boys to reward their long-suffering better-halves with a glam night out, after years of covering for you at corporate bashes and listening to your endless heart-breaks over Paco, Nico, Bingo and Bongo... and ladies, well, quite frankly, this is your night to shine and not be upstaged by a pair of pecs and a dodgy latin accent.”
I’m holding open auditions - so if you see Kate, Lizzie, Susan et al tottering down Hendon high street in kitten heels and cursing my name during the next few days, you’ll know why.