Val, D and I are comfortably seated in bed at the Evil Eye and for the first time since Evil Eye started serving food we've all managed to get chips. And lest you think that this is not something unsual let me tell you that it is nothing short of a miracle. Despite the fact that the only thing that any normal person wants to eat after injesting their body weight in white russians is a bowl of chips the Evil Eye seems to remain tellingly oblivious, wanting to ply us with spicy noodles having run out of chips somewhere around 5.00pm. And I'm sure you like noodles. Hey, I like noodles. But I like chips more. Today though they may have run out of beef but chips - oh no. Three bowls thank you very much.
Aided by the chips, the alcohol and my snorting coke we've covered why I think D and Val have weird priorities in the cats vs children debate and have moved on to what is distinctly women's magazine territory.
"If you're going to say things like that then I won't marry you"
Val laughs and lest it looks like I'm going insane I need to explain this.
"It was his idea - D suggested it. I think we were even sober at the time"
"Well, we do need an ND wedding"
Obviously now is not the time to question the fact that our mutual desire for big dresses and even bigger hats is manifesting itself in the marriage of me to a gay man.
"I'd be a great husband - I'd encourage you to chase after cute boys"
"You did set out the rule that there would be no children -"
"Absolutely no children - and I'd know if you got pregnant that it wouldn't be mine"
"But you do want to marry me"
"I didn't quite say that"
"Yes you did!"
"I said we should get married"
"'We should get married' is the same as when Trisha says 'you should get counselling', you know exactly where it's going to end up!"
Not, I think it's safe to say, in a bridal gown at Newstead Abbey.