This is an extract from a friends email about his life ...
I don’t actually feel like writing, but everyone I have spoken to lately seems to be having great troubles in their lives, and I somehow blame myself. Clearly, without me telling you my monthly tales of woe and disaster, you have had to seek out your own dilemmas to pass the time. Not to mention any names, but Stan got phone-dumped last nite (say “hi” Stan), Marc’s girlfriend is not speaking to him while he’s trapped on business with some sex-goddess in the Presidential suite in Secunda, (somebody explain “Secunda” to the foreigners,) Andrew got the fastest divorce in legal history (all the girls say “hi, Andrew,”) Adrian sits on the internet 20 hours a day chatting up seven women, but gets stood up on his first real date in months. (Don’t bother to say “hi, Adrian” cos he was one of the ones who made fun of me during the “face plant” episode a few months back.) Lionel is besieging us with romantic poetry that can only be fuelled by a lack of leg-over, and even worse, somebody, somewhere in the world is probably falling for it!
