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Don't you dare invite me to anything after 4pm on a Sunday. -
Fuck your fucking smoothies I am making marvellous margaritas and having fun.
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I am only here to steal your wine, flirt and gossip.
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Not this fucking story again.
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Oh Christ. Must we wait a sodding second longer for a top up?
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Oh do please stop your wanky waffling and pour the yummy wine.
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Oh fuck no, I wasn't flirting, I was just being Northern.
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Please do not invite yourself round. We are forever busy.
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Please do not kill the vibe with your ghastly inappropriate confession.
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Please do not throw up on the rug. It is vintage.
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Reach for the second bottle of wine (and pop a third in the fridge just in case).
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So sorry but you will just have to put up with me for I am a moody mother fucker.
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Sorry darling, there we no sodding Shrigleys left, so I got you this.
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When I said sorry I am busy I meant I did not want to come.
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You are as predictable as finding a naff collection of shells on display in a seaside air bnb.
