Oh no! Don't answer that...
Doomed, I'm doomed I tells ya.
Alright, after the beer drinking, hoarse, shouting match last night, the Paramour naturally stayed over to...er celebrate the win in style.
So this morning a stiff and ever so slightly hungover paramour was stumbling around the sittingroom looking for his keys, pants, underwear and whatever else was scattered around.
I was asleep, buried under the duvet, dreaming of horses . In the distance I thought I heard a jangle. My horse looked at me.
'I think that was your phone' he said in a strangely accented morose voice. I kicked him in the flank and we leaped a six bar gate and began to race across a meadow, fleck of sweat and streaks of foam, his breath white in the freezing air, my hands tangled deep in his mane.
Quiet horsey, none of your lip!
But then I thought I heard a muffled 'hello?'
My horse whinnied and the meadow shimmered and lost its solidity.
Then I definitely heard. 'oh, hello there, ha, ha, yes I'm the, ha, yes the boyfriend. Oh no, really? Well I'm sure...no she's alseep, would you like me to...'
I leaped out of bed and ran, flying, hair streaming, up the hall, taking the corner hard, skidding slidding, breasts free and jiggling, into the sittingroom.
Paramour pulled a face. 'Sorry' he mouthed at me. 'Um huh,' he actually said out loud, to my mother-for it was she- who was now in full flight.
'Oh.' I said, and like a tyre that has been slashed. 'oooohhh' I collapsed bare-arsed onto a rather cold leather chair.
Eeek, cold. My ankles twined aroud each other in misery.
I watched the paramour as he tried to escape. But to escape one must be able to speak, and to speak one must be able to get a word in and to get a word in my mother would have to shut her yap for two seconds and to do that she would need to draw breath, which, for some strange reason, she does not need to do.
I watched him nod, pace, nod, glance towards me, look at his watch, nod, say 'Uh hum yes I see' pace, glace despairingly at his watch again, until I could stand it no longer.
I leaped up- ow, -my arse had warmed up the leather and I kind of stuck to it- snatched the phone from him.
'Novice' I mouthed at him.
'Nice tits' he mouthed back.
'Ohhhh, awake are we?' My mother said in a voice so gloatingly delighted I almost flung the phone out the window.
'Yes I'm awake, and I'll call you back in a while.'
''Your boyfriend sounds lovely.' She said, putting a slithering emphasis on 'sounds'.
'Yes.' I said.
'You know your brother is home tomorrow.'
'I thought we might head over to the house, make sure there's enough sheets and towels. I didn't realise you had...company.'
I swear, I could actually hear her filling her teeth, ready to take her pointy bloodsucking nips.
'Right.' I said.
'So I'll be up that way, you want to come over to the house with me? We should probably get a few bits and pices in, put milk in the fridge, I'm sure neither your brother or his wife (hiss hiss) will feel like shopping when they get here.'
'Right. Okay the I'll give you a hand.' I am cursing. Her, my brother, the paramour, me for having a phone.
'Good, then you can tell me all about your little guest there.'
My skin prickles.
We agree a time and I hang up.
'Sorry.' My little guest looks slightly forlorn, 'I don't know why I picked it up, I was half asleep and it-'
'It's all right.' I say.
'She sounds nice.'
I roll my eyes. 'Yep. She sounds-' I do a little slithering of my own- 'just dandy.'
I kiss him good bye and wander off to the bathroom. As I run the shower I wonder what sort of afternoon I will have. With my mother, already vicious about my brother's new bride, now gloating over her discovery, will surely be in her element.
'She sounds lovely' I mimic, falsetto, to the bigger of the cats who wanders into the bathroom, 'Ooohhhh yes, she's a fucking delight!'
HOLLYWOOD TAT!- Britney's pregnant again. Why in the name of God Britney, why?