Lone Lonely Town

So - we went to see an artists screening last night. I won't name names, but suffice to say it was BALLS. So afterwards we trundled our way along to Bungalows And Bears (or vise versa, i can never remember) and sunk ito the pillowy embrace of suede sofas and complaining. Our friend Phoebe, who has become a figure somewhat reminiscent of a zoo keeper, except instead of capturing and containing animals, she captures and contains boys, lots of boys, was boasting outrageously and heartlessly of her conquests, lording over us like some grand dame. Imagine a randy Margo Channing and your not far off. So as she poured crucible after crucible of scorching carnal bile over us, we, me and Dan, in our shrivelled, unloved husks of bodies col do nothing to defend ourselves.

I should point out at this stage, I may be exagerrating.

Phoebe is actually very nice. But the fact remains.

But the fact remains