1)You always know when someone can't really talk on the phone. Maybe the boss or Mum is standing nearby. (“Hi, let's whoreganise to go smash 1 000 bevvies in our faces, visit a strip joint and run around naked! C'monnnnnn”)
“Um, ok, I'm sure I can do tea at 4:30.”
“Absolutely, that can be arranged.”
(Arranged?? CHUNDER CHUNDER COTCH AND SPEW....)
“Yes.....absolutely, I'll pen you in for later.”
(Frank the tank! Frank the tank! Frank the tank....)
“I'd love to talk hedge funds with you Mr Belvidere, but I'm unfortunately snowed with gross profit margins at the moment.”
2)I bet you Cliff Richard is a player. He says in one song “Some people tease one another and keep the other one down....I'm not that kinda guy.” Yeah right! I bet you he slaps a different pair of tits twice a week! I'm not that kinda guy – psssht. Pants if I ever heard it.
3)Pettiness and dramas amongst people is ridiculous. Perhaps, holy Lord – can it be? - I'm not chaos-causing Peas anymore. Honestly, I'm over all the shit that goes down between people. It's really tiresome these days. Perhaps I Try Not To Cause My Chaos now, as opposed to I Love Causing It Wherever I Go. Drama has become severely overrated. I'm not saying it doesn't bombard my life daily, or that it doesn't happen all the fucking time, but I'm kinda into smoothing things over before making a scene now.
Fine. Don't believe me.
4)I have found a room mate for September! Not even the most synthesized 80s music could release such forgone pressure as this, even though 80s music solves most immediate problems. She seems cool, chilled and says she'd fancy a little house party or two. A new chapter starts in September – along with me turning, oh dear God above – 27 years old, and an era ends: Third World Ant will be gone. Fuck I'm gonna miss her.
5)A friend over the weekend:
“It was odd hey...I hadn't shagged in a while, and yet I lasted longer than her.”
Peas: How'd you manage to do that?”
“I guess....I'm just that good.”
6)Another friend: “Blah blah blah...so what do you think?”
Peas: Sure, I think that's fabulous.
“You just looked at my crotch.”
Peas: Beg pardon? No I didn't.
“I saw you, you even paused for a second.... I feel violated.”
Peas: I did not. Trust me, I really don't want to look at your package. Not now, not ever.
“It's when women are most horny they look at men's packages. It's part of the procreational process...it's sub-conscious, and true's God, you just snuck at look at my nethers.”
Whatever. I've got it all under control, and I certainly don't recall [actively] looking at his crotch. Just like how guys don't remember actively looking at girl's boobs.