One of you has blabbed.
One of you couldn’t keep your mouth shut about the good thing we had going.
The meals out. The flirty texts. The lingerie and the peanut butter. The hot nights rucking up the bedsheets in cheap hotels as we lost ourselves in wild abandon.
One of you has run to the press and sung like a canary.
And I mean to find out who (Rol, I may yet forgive you if you come clean right away).
I’ve been approached by a journalist. A freelance journalist no less. And yes, I had to control my knee-jerk sneer at the word “freelance” because I interpreted it as “I Want To Be A”. Apologies to all you freelancers out there. I am a man in the grip of cynicism.
This journo wants to do an interview with me. A telephone interview no less. She wants to start a new blog (blog? Oh. That kind of freelance journalist? One of us, basically). A blog about love, relationships and dating but more particularly centred around the issues of long distance relationships.
And she wants to interview me because (and I quote): “as you are quite the expert, gaining your insight would be fantastic”.
Quite the expert? Me? The only long distance relationships I have (if you discount my parents who live in Sheffield while I live in Leamington) are with you guys.
And although I love some of you dearly (most of you cheaply) I’m not sure that I can say we’ve ever dated. Let alone spooned or exchanged bodily unctions.
I know some of you have fantasized about it. I know some of you have begged (please keep those emails a-coming – they give me a good laugh when I’m down).
But I think I’d know if, you know, you and I had got serious.
Now, I’m not saying I don’t care about you guys. I’m not using and abusing. I’m not going to kick you into touch once the shine has worn off. We’re going steady. But you do know it’s purely platonic, right?
I’ve got a wife and family and a major phone tapping scandal to think about here.
So, what I’d like to know is: which one of you has been telling porkies? Which one of you has been telling lies? And are there going to be any faked photographs in the tabloids?
This is a polite request to withdraw your allegations.
Because they’re really not going to help BSkyB’s plans for world domination one single iota.
Just think about it and do the right thing, kay?
P.S. Car park as usual tonight. I’ll flash my headlamps twice. ;-)
I've flashed my headlamps enough this week, it's about time you used yours.
'... exchanged bodily unctions? Spooned?'
Well, not daily I'll grant you, but come on Steve... we've read your voicemails.
Humble apologies. She plied me with drink and I let a few things slip. I thought I'd got away with it but she was canny, oh so canny. There I was, backed into a corner, with no option but to come clean (if you'll pardon the expression). I thought she was sated, but no...
Being Me: gosh tarnation! I've got my master key jammed in the ignition in my excitement!
TheDotterel: can I just point out that the heavy breathing was coming from the St. Bernard and not from me?
Tenon_Saw: backed into a corner? We both know that's how you like it, you little tiger, you! Grrr!
Flash your headlights? Oh, that's where I've been going wrong.....
Martin: flash twice to say you're available and then wind your windows down at your own peril.
Oh, typical, I get the blame for EVERYTHING!
It wasn't me, it was my good friend Ms. Brooks. I was just paid to sit behind you on the bus and earwig. Is that a crime?
Did she say her name is Rebekah. Brooks?
Rol: just keep your tongue out of my ear next time. What do you think I am? Easy?
Note Bene: conspiracy! You're in it with Rol! You've been double-teaming me! God, I feel so dirty and used.
Cheap?! Cheap!? I'll have you know I'm bloody expensive.
And while I'm at it, who's kay?!!
Trish: I believe the phrase is "high maintenance". Kay is just someone who is always agreeable.
Hmm I seem to recall having a vague discussion about this with some Arab business man I met in bar...
Very Bored in Catalunya: Mohamed al Fayed out on the pull again...?
Hah, she's probably got you confused with some other blogger. Just play along and pretend to be knowledgeable - you're certainly an expert at that.
See you later I'll be wearing the green pacamac and rainbow legwarmers so as not to arouse suspicions...
Gorilla Bananas: indeed, you were a fine teacher.
Emma: how I love those legwarmers! Just the thing for keeping my ears warm in the inclement British summer time!
As long as it's just your headlamps you're flashing, you can get arrested for the other you know!
Suburbia: don't worry, I flash my exhaust to nobody.
Steve, you were obviously far too drunk to remember that night of passion we shared in the gents loos on the Leamington Spa by-pass. However you seemed very...adept and knowledgeable...and afterwards in our "apres" conversation you revealed your prowess in many areas. I couldn't help but blab to the journalist. I honestly felt like a complete and utter novice compared to you.
Sorry, the above actually sounds incredibly disguting and sordid...
Actually my real name is George Michael.
OC or rather George: kindly brush your teeth next time, old bean, I had the smell of lamb kebab all over my naval for days afterwards.
LMAO-yet once again.
I am far away :-)
Susie: you're just another notch on my virtual bedpost!
for a short moment I was upset and rather put out and then I realised you don't mean me, being a midlander I don't count as long distance...ahh yes you're right even Warwick is a bloody long way on your bike. Still I'm sure if you tell her everything you know about romance you'll be talking for minutes, but she'll be laughing for hours :)
Kelloggsville: sweet talker.
Well I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me Stephen, but then I only had the briefest of scans down my daily scratchings on the wall before the screws hosed me down and turned the light out for the night here. I keep a daily diary of absolutely everyone I’ve grassed up, so if I’ve etched it in the concrete here somewhere, I’ll spot it soon after sunrise tomorrow and tap out a message to you on the waste pipe as per normal. Nite nite then my little cherub…wet dreams. P xxx
Here's me thinking just time to make a comment on Fly in the Web's page before I get on with real life (you know, earthquake repairs and the like) and I get sucked right into the Blogosphere by this photo of a guy in a jester's outfit and dare I say it, by his wit he could quite well be a morris man underneath. Keep your headlights charged for flashing - December in Milverton Tce !
Its to bloody cold for me to be flashing headlights and meeting in carparks LOL
Bish Bosh Bash: do they still have you in solitary? Please do ask the nice Morgan Freeman for a radio or something to keep yourself occupied. I'll see you in the showers soon... I'll bring the soap.
Lady Mondegreen's Secret Garden: bizarrely when I put Milverton Tce into Google it comes up with a location within good ol' Leamington Spa. Are you a local? If so any kind of long distance relationship can never be on the cards. Sorry. ;-)
Vicky: apres ski?
I couldn't read all your post. Tears clouded mine eyes.
All those sweet words, whispered confidences, sweet meats piled on your pillow. All wasted.
Oh I know, you'll blab to that freelancer - the little strumpet. One phone call and you succumb, letting your wild, wild nature get the better of you.
Well, I've had it. You can keep your penthouse, your luxury Range Rover and discreet evenings at Quaglino's. I'm off back to Rupert. He at least knows how to treat a lady.
Well a long distance relationship would be impossible in December but this Secret Gardener wobbles around in Canterbury, New Zealand.
Milverton Terrace? Some o' the Whanau Bro.
Marginalia: what can I say? I'm a sucker for a nice big wad (of backhanded cash) and a nice glass or two of Downing Street bolly.
Lady Mondegreen's Secret Garden: not sure what's going down in December but it seems you make the long distance list after all. In fact you make the long, long distance list.
a good read my man...
John: why thank you, my good sir.
Steve, you utter, utter, CAD! You promised me that it was me and ONLY ME that you flashed your headlights at. And now I discover that it's not only me, it the whole flaming world. That's it. We're through. No, no, don't you come trying to get round me with those limp peanut butter sandwiches. You wait till I sell my story to the News of the World. No, wait a minute, they've gone. Oh nuts! What now? I was banking on that fiver they'd have given me for our story....
Wylye Girl: limp peanut butter sandwiches?! How about if I keep the crusts on next time?
So ok, I'll confess then shall I? It seems you have replaced me already anyway with another 'quaker....I didn't mean to blab but the offer to spill the beans was so goooood baby, I mean red wine, champagne, a life time on the lamb and that was just to get me to say hello....
Oh I would write you slutty messages if I wasn't so busy laughing at your humor ... er, humour!
Amanda: no worries. I'm like a double-decker bus - always room for one more on top.
Femminismo: probably best that you don't - I'm already in enough trouble with my wife!
I think that if a journalist called me to give an interview on blogging I'd about have a heart attack.
Of course, I am meticulously anonymous, so I'd have a reason for flipping out.
I've not seen any of the HP films. Does that make me a bad person? I've invited you to take part in The Seven Links Project, if you can be arsed and haven't got anything better to do. Details on my blog
Wylye Girl: makes you a very bad person - practically Voldermort himself. ;-)
You're the second person to tag me for that meme... I'll see what I can come up with in honour of you both.
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