Somewhere in the USA, Late September 2017 That losing the show wouldn’t be the worst thing, that there would be financial ruin, bullshit stories, public vilification, name-calling, getting spat at (because yes people do that), private conversations with jerks in dark moments telling him good on you for speaking up — that things would not
Franny always said our pastries had the consistency of dried paper mache. At night we’d wrap the leftovers and leave them outside for the homeless. Not even raccoons would go near those things. One by one we had to let our staff go. We consulted a financial advisor, who said our best course of action
Maureen decided we’d redecorate the lounge. Our decor was no longer “chic”. I didn’t know what that meant but I argued it was quite chic indeed if it meant I didn’t have to tear up a perfectly good shag carpet. “It’s very ‘65, you know,” she said with disdain as if ’65 was universally agreed
“What’s on the Moon tonight?” I’m so sick of that question. Every single day I get asked that same thing. As though I’m some kind of expert! I’m no more of an expert than anyone else in the office. I can search online, just like everyone else can. I don’t understand why Dan always asks
I always find Kendra by the corgi pen in the courtyard at lunch. We have two hundred square feet of mulch and rubber for the pups to run around down there. The corgis were donated by a local animal shelter after they went belly-up during citywide budget cuts. In December our phones went off the
Anyone who’s seen City Lights by Charlie Chaplin will remember that heartbreaking final close-up when the Tramp realizes he’ll never be loved. He chews his fingernail, scrunches his eyes and smiles pleadingly/pathetically at the woman he longs for. We’ve been laughing for 80 minutes as he’s endured homelessness, beatings, persecution, all hilarious in wide shots
‘We asked one hundred people to name a source of family conflict – ’ In my mind: In-Laws But I didn’t say that. At the end you’re supposed to smile and wave moronically. Some teams get silly and pick up Les Dennis like he’s a roll of bargain carpet. Bugger that. I shuffled left and
Bastards all. Self-righteous, narcissistic, self-pitying, craven, cringing, oleaginous, vile, dribbling, deluded bastards. They all think they should win; they all think they deserve to win. And here they are. And here I am. We’re sitting on a platform; we’re waiting to read. They will read from the ghastly excretions that they have forced before the
I’m having an affair with an older woman. It’s not an extramarital affair because she’s not married. She’s actually a widow. She’s been a widow for as long as I’ve known her. I went to school with her son. We were in the same class. Sometimes, he would come over to my house after school
Gerald Spokes was Sabrina’s landlord and lived in number three, across the hallway. His father had bought the faded Georgian townhouse after the war and converted the over-large rooms into single-bedroomed flats. Sabrina had never married and couldn’t seem to keep a boyfriend for much longer than a season. They came and went with the
