“Because you’re gorgeous…” Esther sings as we climb into bed.
I smile at the compliment.
“Not you” she snaps, “I was talking to Goldie”
She gets in beside me and hacks at a spot on her thigh until the artificial sun SAD light dims too much to see.
I get more love off Goldie and Linda. Sometimes I pretend I’m having an orgy by stroking them both at the same time and snogging their faces. Now that’s some heavy petting.
Has the world gone mad? At the Metro Elle Style Awards this week, Cheryl Cole was given the Best Music Award, and Emma ‘Hermione’ Watson was presented the Style Icon prize…by Vivienne Westwood! What on God’s black earth is going on? The high Queen of punk endorsing the low princess of LARP fantasy? Elle, you sick fucks.
Have women won the war, or have men just let them? I am sat on the 88 next to a young man in white trainers and a quilted jacket with the collar turned up, listening to N-Dubz (probably). A stylish blonde woman (one half of ASBO A GO GO in fact) gets on and stands near us. After a short while of internal cog whirring, the boy jumps up and says to the girl “Can’t have you standing up, can we?” Rhetorically, I presume.
(“No we can’t, can we” is not what he wants to hear, because it takes the power away from the him martyring themselves. Some blushing and eyelash fluttering is what’s asked for. She half complies)
She comes and sits down next to me, and he stands where she was, looking around to see if anyone noticed. What do you want, fucking applause?
Is this a rare act of chivalry by the ASBO generation or is it plain trad chauvinism? Was it a masonic ASBO clan thing?
Esther always says that if a man opens a door for her, she refuses to go in because he’s only doing it coz she’s ‘a woman’. Although she has been called sir a few times.
I hate when you’re walking behind someone and they feel obliged to open every door for you. I try to make each ‘Thankyou’ sound different, so it’s not too dull for them. There are many variations: Cheers, Thanks, Thankyou, Ta, grunt, silent nod.
There is a custom in Sheffield for thanking the grumpy-ass bus driver when you get off the bus. As I file off, I always want to say it differently to the people in front. Most of them are chavvy students, and they come out with a right load of macho/condescending bullshit like ‘thanks boss’, ‘cheers mate’, ‘nice one geezer’ like a bunch of cockney rejects. The driver usually feels obliged to return the favour and acknowledge each praise.
Sometimes I take this as a test of masculinity- if he says ‘thanks’ to the blokey ‘how’s your father’ students, and not to me, that is because he is disgusted by my flagrant effeminacy and shudders as I pass. This is what I tell myself.
There are a few seats left on this bus, but the students that get on next decide instead to stand at the front of the bus, blocking the aisle for other people getting on. Idiots. When I was a student, I used to feel mortally offended when locals muttered ‘bloody students’ as we passed. They’re just jealous, I’d reason.
Now I am completely on their side: I’m righteously jealous and tetchy as hell.
Bloody students, prancing about, having fun, walking around in flip flops in winter, high on life, or to put it another way:
YOUNG, DUMB AND FULL OF CUM