That new 'Jessie J' song really is fucken good
…thought Quinten as he gunned his glossy blue Ford Probe through the Reading suburbs. He cast his brilliant business mind back to where he’d first heard it – the previous week in the car with Dawn on the way to the Wetherspooon’s in the precinct for ‘Curry Club’ night with Tricky and Tasha (korma and WKD for the ‘ladies’, tikka massala and a bottle of Bud for the guys). Things were going really well. iPhone sales were SMASHING IT, thanks in no small part to his motivational speech at last month’s Phones4U management conference in Basingstoke Business Village, he thought to himself. At one point things weren’t so good: his marriage had collapsed under the weight of the incest/paedo case, and he really lost it – only gelling his hair once a day and on one occasion drinking four beers in a single week.

But that was before Dawn. Their lunchtime dates had been going swimmingly – they’d even bought some faux leather picture frames together in the Homebase sale. He felt sure that it was only a matter of time before they’d be looking at Barratt homes together and making plans for the future. The automatic CD changer (HA! I bet Steve at number 15 doesn’t have one of these babies in HIS Probe!!!) switched over to Phil Collins as he neared Dawn’s faceless cul-de-sac. Had he the wit to notice it, the spring sky was a beautiful azure blue and starlings wheeled and arced their graceful skyborne dance above him.

He knew something was wrong the moment he turned in to Noel Edmonds Close. Dawn’s front door was open and there was an empty Lambrini bottle lying in her front garden, next to the rusting Austin Allegro and the brick wishing well. Fearing the worst he pushed open the door, and his heart sank. Four pairs of Army boots lay discarded at the foot of the stairs, along with Dawn’s favourite white stilettoes.

‘IT ENT WOT IT FUCKEN LOOKS LIKE QUINT YOU PRICK’ caterwauled Dawn. It was hard to tell under the layers of ‘San Tropez’ and 2kg of Superdrug makeup, but he could swear she looked flushed. ‘OI’M JUST DOIN’ ME BIT FOR ‘ELP FOR ‘EEEEROES…’
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Tue 20 Mar 2012, 10:25, Reply)