"Oh my God, so it wasn’t an interview for a job, it was to be on a TV show?” exclaimed my BFF, later that evening back at home in Niagara Close. “So what did you do?”
“Well, since I’d already signed their release form, what else could I do but go ahead with it?” I replied.
“So you’re going to be a TV star?” asked my other flatmate MPG, eyes wide with delight.
“I guess so.” I replied, not quite as convinced of this as my friend. Then as the realisation dawns on us at what’s just happened we all chorus:
“COOL!!!” Our favourite phrase du jour, stolen from some annoying child we met once at a club in Hoxton Square, who said ‘cool’ unrelentingly to anything and everything anyone said the whole night long. Ironically at this time Hoxton Square was anything but, though in fairness the club was quite ‘happening’.
“So what happens next?” asked BFF.
“Well if I understood them correctly, and that’s not guaranteed, everyone who was there this morning goes into the next round.” I replied.
“So what were the others like” asked MPG, eager as ever for details, well one detail alone. “Was there anyone cute?”
“Well there was this terrifyingly efficient-looking brunette girl, some ditsy-looking blond girl, aged around 12, then a scarily intense guy who was dressed head to toe in black who was just too cool for school. “ I answered.
“Was he cute?” asked BFF
“Well, not exactly, he was too over-styled to be cute. However, there was one other guy there." I continued, "He was relatively young and very handsome in a Latin-lover kind of way.”
“Ooh, did you have Eye-Sex?” interrupted the irrepressible MPG, (Eye-Sex being his phrase for making eyes at each other, most usually across a crowded tube train).
“I hope it was Safe-Eye-Sex” uttered BFF in his best chaste, faux-Quaker voice.
“Girls, with my glasses you know it was safe – but I think the glasses are more Femidom to contact lenses’ condom.” I replied. “But who’s talking eye-sex? I was way too nervous to concentrate on anything other than not having a dodgy stomach.”
Despite this, MPG did have one final question: “Did he have a big cock? Or were you too ‘distracted’?”
“MPG!!” both BFF and I exclaimed in unison in mock horror.
Then I relent: “Okay, I didn’t get a complete view, but his trousers did suggest that even you wouldn’t be disappointed.”
MPG looked ecstatic, feigning a swoon worthy of any of Jane Austen’s heroines, (who would more-likely have dropped dead of shock at the preceding conversation). MPG however quickly recovered and declared: “We should go out and celebrate! To The Brink?”
“To The Brink!” BFF and I replied.
“Well, since I’d already signed their release form, what else could I do but go ahead with it?” I replied.
“So you’re going to be a TV star?” asked my other flatmate MPG, eyes wide with delight.
“I guess so.” I replied, not quite as convinced of this as my friend. Then as the realisation dawns on us at what’s just happened we all chorus:
“COOL!!!” Our favourite phrase du jour, stolen from some annoying child we met once at a club in Hoxton Square, who said ‘cool’ unrelentingly to anything and everything anyone said the whole night long. Ironically at this time Hoxton Square was anything but, though in fairness the club was quite ‘happening’.
“So what happens next?” asked BFF.
“Well if I understood them correctly, and that’s not guaranteed, everyone who was there this morning goes into the next round.” I replied.
“So what were the others like” asked MPG, eager as ever for details, well one detail alone. “Was there anyone cute?”
“Well there was this terrifyingly efficient-looking brunette girl, some ditsy-looking blond girl, aged around 12, then a scarily intense guy who was dressed head to toe in black who was just too cool for school. “ I answered.
“Was he cute?” asked BFF
“Well, not exactly, he was too over-styled to be cute. However, there was one other guy there." I continued, "He was relatively young and very handsome in a Latin-lover kind of way.”
“Ooh, did you have Eye-Sex?” interrupted the irrepressible MPG, (Eye-Sex being his phrase for making eyes at each other, most usually across a crowded tube train).
“I hope it was Safe-Eye-Sex” uttered BFF in his best chaste, faux-Quaker voice.
“Girls, with my glasses you know it was safe – but I think the glasses are more Femidom to contact lenses’ condom.” I replied. “But who’s talking eye-sex? I was way too nervous to concentrate on anything other than not having a dodgy stomach.”
Despite this, MPG did have one final question: “Did he have a big cock? Or were you too ‘distracted’?”
“MPG!!” both BFF and I exclaimed in unison in mock horror.
Then I relent: “Okay, I didn’t get a complete view, but his trousers did suggest that even you wouldn’t be disappointed.”
MPG looked ecstatic, feigning a swoon worthy of any of Jane Austen’s heroines, (who would more-likely have dropped dead of shock at the preceding conversation). MPG however quickly recovered and declared: “We should go out and celebrate! To The Brink?”
“To The Brink!” BFF and I replied.
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