‘Oh, yeah. I’ve got two holes in my jeans.’
‘Really? Same place?’
‘No. One above each foot.’
Oh, come on. Give us a break. When your only domestic partner is a litre bottle of Whyte and Mackay (Glasgow) Reserve, and your only local friend an ash tree in a field off Church Lane, reality has a different shape, you know?
Mel said that when she applies for a job, it isn’t the job itself that interests her. What interests her is how it will make her feel.
‘That’s what you were saying about life being merely a construct to experience the abstract, isn’t it?’ she asked.
And I still hate earnestness.