Recently, I acquired a new boyfriend, Simon, which has left me with little time for my five best girlfriends or writing my Blog.
Rather than "The Koala speaks", maybe I should just rename my Blog to "The Dead Koala ", which seems to suggest that "The Koala" may not write a new entry any time soon. Takes the pressure off big time!
As for the girlfriends, I think they have given up on me going out with them Friday or Saturday night, like we used to do BS (Before Simon).
Believe it or not, Simon and I still managed to run into them - well sort of.
This Sunday, Simon took me to lunch in a pub on the edge of Bristol town centre. In the evening, the pub is heaving with drunk and sexually frustrated men and women, while the clientèle found wondering in around Sunday lunch time, when they serve up a half decent roast dinner for under five pounds, tend to be able to stand unaided and be less likely to vomit repeatedly in someone's handbag.
We sad at a small wooden table next to the bar and was tucking into the roast pork with all the trimmings, when I heard the two men behind the bar laughing their heads off.
From what I could initially make out, one of them had been working behind the bar the evening before, when a group of girls had walked in and sat down at the bar.
One of the girls had been particular interested in chatting him up, and had after a little small talk asked if he wanted to pop around later and see her inverted nibble.
I don't know about you, but even if I was the last woman on Earth, and I somehow did have one or more inverted nibbles at my disposal, and it was up to me to save the human race by attracting a suitable mate, I would be unlikely to say: "Fancy a cup of coffee and a bit of inverted nibble at my place? Shall we say 2 am?"
As I sad there and looked at Simon shovelling down his roast dinner, I could not help but wonder what crazy woman would use her inverted nibble to pull a barman in a sweaty Bristol pub. And then it struck me that my friend Bev actually is the proud owner of an inverted nibble (I know because I have spend many an hour looking at it against my will, but Bev insists that I check it over once in a while to see if it is turning into a 'normal' nibble!), and that she is very much single.
As not to put Simon off his pudding, which was quickly disappearing down the hatch too, I kept my suspicion to myself.
When we got back to my flat, and Simon had taken up permanent residence in the loo with the Sunday newspaper, I saw my chance to call Bev.
After the usual greetings and chit-chat, I asked what she and the girls had been up to last night. Only to keen to let me know how much of an 'Oh my God brilliant night' I had been missing, she started off telling me about their evening and how they had visited the pub where Simon and I had just inhaled a large Sunday lunch.
"So, did your 'use-inverted-nibble-to-pull-barman' trick work?" I asked cheekily.
Dead silence!
"Bev? Are you still there?"
"Maybe...," Bev replied. "How the devil do you know about this. Did you spy on us?"
"Spy on you, come on woman get a grip," I laughed "The barman told his friend, who is now busy Tweeting about it, and I just happened to overhear them."
"Oh my God!", whispered Bev.
"And I just realised what my next Blog entry will be about," I continued. "Before long you will have people stopping you in the street politely asking you to expose your bosom and your special nipple. Bev, you are going to be famous!"
"Oh my God!!!", screamed Bev.
"So did it work or not?" I asked again. No answer, she had slammed the phone down.
Don't know about you, but I am keen for Bev to let me know if she got lucky or not, though it may take a decade or two before she has forgiven me writing this entry.
Sorry dear crazy and horny Bev, but the world just gotta know. :))
Two men in a pub.