Woke up to the sound of my phone alerting me to the fact that I'd received a text message. After yesterday's bombshell news that Gill's knocked up with another man's baby, I did what any man in my situation would have done. Well, not an Islam or a top sportsman on the eve of a big competition, or indeed a sensible taxi driver who was about to start his shift, or Roger (apparently - although I doubt that, he probably just stays off the booze so he can manipulate Mum (both emotionally and physically - GOD I NOW FEEL SICK)).
I had a can of Cobra.
Then another and another. Before not too long I'd guzzled through the mobile phone safety barrier of about six cans of Cobra. It was sitting on the table, looking up at me, taunting me. I swear readers, I was beyond help. I picked it and sent Dave a text.
"Wetting the baby's head?" I texted.
"WTF U talkin abt Baz?"
"Won't be showing people down the Imperial pictures of Gill naked now will you? More likely to be junior."
"Serious. WTF U talkin abt Baz?"
"In fact, there'll be no more Imperial for you. No more going to the Bridge. No more bunking up with barmaids. But you can bunk up with your best pal's ex-girl as much as you like."
"Been drinkin" he asked.
"I've had a few Dave. I'm celebrating not having to look after a baby."
"UR saying wot I think UR sayin?"
"Nice one DAD!"
"If UR lyin 2me, ur ded"
"In the words of Charles and Eddie, Would I lie to you?"
"I'm ending this, not you."
Enjoy the Cup Final."
I thought I'd leave it at that, sometimes you've got to be the bigger man. I'm not sure what the message was on my phone this morning. Wasn't from Dave though, it was from Gill. Think I'll open it later.
Yours in News
Barry - young, free and single (again!)
ps. Dave was actually calling me a twat, but I thought I'd better change it to twit in case any of my younger readers are easily influenced.
pps. even though Dave the roofer is die hard Chelsea, I really do hope they win today, because I know Mess will be watching!