The Fag Hag met up with her pal Amanda for lunch yesterday. Amanda is a wonderful creation – waist length killer blonde hair, fashion forward as hell, wisdom of ancient Indian guru – and she treats her body as a sanctified temple, just as the Fag Hag treats her as a litter strewn amusement park.
Which is how I staggered out of bed hungover, craving burger, chips and vodka and ended up having Bengali tea and spelt crackers at the raw food cafe.
Amanda also often has spooky insights which she delivers with mysterious certainty. ‘You’ve got some weird glow – you’re oozing sexual confidence right now,’ she announced. Maybe I’d overdone it with the Guerlain terracotta facial bronzer. She continued, ‘You must take advantage of it. I think you’re about to meet someone very soon’.
As we said our goodbyes and I wandered off with my new bringing sexy back mojo to retrieve my car from whatever side street I had left it in the day before, a tramp wandered towards me, leered and then got his cock out. Before taking a piss all over a skip.
Well, she did say I was about to meet someone – I just had no idea it would be quite that soon.