"Have you blogged yet?" Charming Canadian asks.
We are in the midst of the library and the number one topic of conversation for the last twenty four hours (if we put to one side workloads and general mockery of me which are pretty much standard features of our conversations at any given point) has been blogging. Which may have a little to do with the fact that it has been discovered that not only am I the only person who appears when you google my name but also that I blog.
"No! I've been working!". For I have. Actual reading as opposed to messing around on the internet working. Working because I am writing an essay comparing August: Osage County to every-depressing-dysfunctional-family-American-play ever written. Let me say now: that is a heck of a lot of alcohol and drug problems to negotiate.
"So, the actual blogger amongst us hasn't blogged in the last twenty four hours". There is a kind of smugness to it, somewhat justified after my assertion that the boys' new desire to blog is something that will amount to little more than a one night stand. Especially given that to my zero posts they have managed seven - hear it, seven -posts in the last 24 hours.
It is then, sitting in the midst of the library in front of a shiny Mac as the overbearing strip lighting shines down on me, that I realise what I have done: I have created a monster.
"Why aren't I 'Charming Canadian'?"
It is a fair question. "Because" - I consider how to put this - "Charming Canadian is, well... charming".
"And I'm not?"
There is an obvious answer to this, but I refrain. "You could be Non-Charming Canadian".
"Sounds about right".
"I was reading your blog last night and I started to feel bad...you're really nice about us".
This is, I recognise, my one chance to pull the moral highground over Arsenal Fan.
"The one about your bruises...I started to feel really guilty".
"So you should".
"Maybe we could swap names, confusing everyone".
Breakfast Club Boy seems more keen about this than Charming Canadian. Possibly because Charming Canadian does not exactly look like he has just stepped out of a John Hughes film. He, currently, doesn't have enough hair for starters.
"I wouldn't do that" - this being my blog and all that and me as the author-God - "because they're characters and that would just confuse the audience".
There's a moment as this sinks in. Possibly most of all the fact that I have, without prior permission, pillaged my friends for their blogable bits and turned them into characters to be consumed by an audience.
I wonder if they will ever speak to me again.
Breakfast Club Boy looks at me. "Do I have fans?"
I cannot help it, I laugh.