I Suppose The Important Thing

You've Got To Stop Letting Women Slip Drugs Into Your Mouth, Dex, It's Unhygienic. And Dangerous. One Day It'll Be A Cyanide Capsule.

My 20s Was A Sea Of Worry. I Worried About Benefit Forms, About Being Thrown Out Of My Flat. I Never Went On Holiday Because I Thought: 'what If An Audition Comes Up?' I Was A Nervous Wreck.

Cuddling Was For Great Aunts And Teddy Bears. Cuddling Gave Him Cramp.

Maybe I've Just Read Too Many Novels. In Novels, Alcoholics Are Always Attractive And Fuuny And Charming And Complex, Like Sebastian Flyte Or Abe North In Tender In The Night, And They're Drinking Because Of A Deep, Unquenchable Sadness Of The Soul, Or The Terrible Legacy Of The First World War, Whereas I Just Get Drunk Because I'm Thirsty, And I Like The Taste Of Lager.

In Eight Years Not A Day Has Gone By When She Hasn’t Thought Of Him. She Misses Him And She Wants Him Back. I Want My Best Friend Back, She Thinks, Because Without Him Nothing Is Good And Nothing Is Right.