WOKE up on Saturday morning in a double bed next to an Iraki girl, an Old Harrovian and a financial analyst with a lisp, in that order. Nothing untoward, just uni friends. We're a close-knit bunch, us lot. A bit like the Larkin Family in The Darling Buds of May. We all have fry-ups and cups of tea together in the bath.
In an ideal world we would have woken simultaneously, chillaxed in the flat and considered our options for the day ahead. A glance at Old Harrovian's bedside clock, however, instantly put the mockers on any chance of me doing any chillaxing.
It was 10.30am and my car had been parked illegally in a bay across town since 8.31am. At best there would be a clamp on the wheel and a yellow ticket on the window. At worst it would be sitting in a pound, guarded by a pit-bull in a bomber jacket smoking his way through a pack of Bensons.
I hailed a cab and poured my heart out to Dr
"is the work of one man, in a rude state of society..."
" I left of my own accord, thank you Ralph. ..."
"if this sean bloke had only just finished training..."
"Come on Steph - this guy is a hero in the greater ..."
"I think she's hot..."