Little George

One Thursday evening, a homely scene of emptied plates on the floor and lovers embracing on the sofa.
F: “All right, you can have a pet if you want.”
D: “But you'd want to kill and eat it.”
F: “No, I mean it, you can have a pet and I won't kill it.”
D: “Really?! Are you sure?”
F: “Yes.”
D: “Where did that come from?”
F: “It's a part of you to and it's mean of me to deny you that.”
D: “But wouldn't you mind having a pet?”
F: “No, I think I would quite like it, actually.”
D – jumps up from the sofa and starts hopping through the room like an excited child - “Whoop Whoop! Hurah! I can have a pet! We're going to have a pet! Thank you Freddie! Thank you so much!”

A couple of weeks later, I'm proud to announce that we've got a bunny. George is five years old and brought to us by the RSPCA after being rescued from a cruel home. Isn't he just the cutest thing in the world? I fell in love with his picture immediately, but the RSPCA had to disappoint me because I need a letter of confirmation from my landlord that I can have a pet.

Now, our contract says we're not allowed to keep pets, but upon signing it Freddie asked whether it was okay to have a small pet like a hamster or a rabbit in a cage.
“Yes,” the estate agent replied, “that's fine. No cats, dogs or chicken, but a rabbit is fine.” Unfortunately, they couldn't write a letter to the RSPCA to confirm this, though, because it would contradict the contract and cause legal problems. When I explained the situation, the estate agent said: “Can't you just get a bunny from a pet shop instead?”

But I wanted to do a good deed, help a mature animal looking for a good home instead of buying a new baby that wouldn't have any problem whatsoever finding a family. We almost got two guinea pigs from the Guinea Pig Rescue, but changed our minds when it was pissing down with rain and I couldn't figure out which bus we would have to take to get there. The prospect of carrying two guinea pigs and a cage through the rain was, to say the least, unnerving. Also, the guinea pigs we had our eye on were called Einstein and Darwin - which didn't feel right because one of my previous guinea pigs was called Darwin. I know Schopenhauer didn't have any problem whatsoever in calling his new poodle Atma after the first poodle Atma died, but I'm not Schopenhauer.

When I saw the new Honey Waffles ad, I even contemplated getting myself a Honey Monster. The ad is the new production of Garth Jennings, who also directed the endearing children's film Son of Rambow and the hilarious Shaun of the Dead. I almost went to Tesco's to get myself one, when I realized that I didn't want to have to fight over my cereals with my pet. Also, Freddie doesn't want serious competition when it comes to being my biggest-mess-maker.



I kept checking gumtree, but had almost abandoned the whole idea of getting a pet when I got a call from the RSPCA. Whether I was still interested in George. Hell yes! Was he still there? Yes, he was. Instead of asking for a letter, they offered to call the estate agent. This time, a verbal confirmation was good enough. Last Thursday, they visited my place to see whether it's suitable for keeping a bunny and today, he's moving in. I hope he'll be as happy with Freddie and me as we are with him!

Ordering in (part 2)

Five meals later, the doorbell rang.

“I'm sorry I'm a bit early,” the girl on the doorstep said. She had big Afro hair that would have made him hide behind the curtain if he would have seen her from Steph's room.

“I'm Calypso,” she said. “I'm here to view the room.”

“Fuck, I completely forgot you were coming.” He showed her in and hurried to the kitchen where he was folding Little Danny's clothes. “Please don't look at the mess, things are a bit hectic today. I'm afraid nobody's home at the moment. I really ought to have given you a call to make a different appointment.”

“Don't worry.” She glanced around the cosy kitchen while taking of her coat. “I happened to be in the area, and I can always come back to meet the rest of the family.” She was short and slender and her skin reminded him oak wood, richly bronzed and natural.

“Of course,” he said, “you'll have to come back. Would you like a cup of tea? Did you have lunch yet? I've got home-baked scones.”

“No thanks,” she said, “but a cuppa would be lovely. For how long would the room be available again?”

“As long as you'll want to live here, darling,” he said. He put the kettle on, picked up the folded laundry and held the door open for her. “Let me show you the room first.”

As she preceded him up the stairs, he checked how her Levi's squeezed her bum tight. A full but firm bottom, just the way he liked it. Above the waistband, her top bulged up a little. But she was so young still, only nineteen, that he quickly decided he didn't mind a midriff of puppy fat. Besides, she seemed muscular enough underneath, with shapely legs and strong shoulders.

“Do you have any hobbies?” he asked, “Do you do any sports?”

“I like climbing, kite surfing, snowboarding, that sort of thing,” she hesitated “and pole-dancing.”

“In a club?” He pictured this tiny girl with her big bum and Afro hair offering her service to greedy seedy men in a red lit bar.

“No, in a gym. It's a proper sport, you know, very intense on the muscles to keep your body up like that.”

“You're an unusual girl,” he said, coaxing her into Step's room. “I like that. Now this would be your room. Obviously, there's still a lot of stuff from the previous lodger in there, but that will all be out when you move in.”

She stepped into the little girl's room,touched the light flick and sat down on the chest of toys. “Looks good,” she said. “So when would it be available?”

“The other girl will move out the first of December,” he said. It was bizarre to see another girl here. For a moment, he realised that Steph would have been roughly the same age by now, if only...

“Wow, is it that late already?” She pointed at the Pocahontas clock, which said it was ten past ten.

It was getting dark already, and Paul realised he had no explanation for his wife's absence. He helplessly looked at his watch, which told him it was five to three. Not much help either.

“Is that clock even running?” she asked, and took it off the wall.

“No,” Paul said, “don't touch that, please, I mean, it's okay. It's not running.”

“Of course it's not,” she smiled “there's no batteries in there.”

Shut Up and Eat!

Hurah! I've finished my novella! I handed it in yesterday and had champagne with Fay Weldon afterwards (oh how I love name dropping!).

Leave a comment or send me an email if you want a little preview of Shut Up And Eat.

Thanks everyone!

Birthday Body Paint - part 1

I've got her right hand. It's the hand she paints with, she makes deals with when someone falls in love with her art, the hand with which she wanks Robert off, and probably it's the hand with which she wipes her arse too. This hand says it all. And I'm supposed to decorate it, to body paint the picture. That's what the official invite said, after I informally confirmed that I would be coming to her party.

“Dear Ginny,
For my 30th birthday, I'm asking you, as one of my closest friends, to body paint a picture of one of my body parts. It can express the way you see me, or the way you think you've influenced me. Please bring your picture to Sunshine Manor, the 30th of May, at four o'clock. Love, Shania.”

Sweet Shania, my sweet Shania O'Sullivan. This is my chance to put a ring on her finger. A thin silver band with a tiny pearl on her elegant finger. Would she mind if I decided to provide her with jewellery, rather than body paint her skin? She will be studying the end result closely, after all the guests have handed in their piece of artwork, gotten smashed or Shania's new collection of cocktails, stayed the night in her atelier, enjoyed Robert's builders breakfast in the green garden of Sunshine Manor, and returned to their own dull lives. She will analyse every brush stroke I did and didn't leave on her lovely right hand. A ring would be a blatant declaration of love – and a declaration of war with Robert. A war he's already won before it even started, since Shania is the prize, and she chose for him after a one-week-relationship with me, four and a half years ago. I've always said that we were meant to be friends, and our intercourse, inevitable and overwhelming as it may have seemed at the time, didn't do our relationship justice. I was happy to stay in touch with a woman as wonderful as Shania O'Sullivan. No hard feelings. I promise.

Honesty and intimacy, that's what she asked for. I'll take the veils of friendship from my true feelings and present her my heart as I've been carrying it since we met. She'll understand at once when she sees that silver snake clenching her elegant finger, reflecting the desperation with which I've held on to every phone call, every lunch date, every opportunity to hear her cheerful voice and see her sparkling eyes. A sliver snake it is, with tiny pearls as eyes.

Thicker than Blood (podcast)

I'm having too much fun reading out stories!

If my voice got on your nerves but you're curious what happens to Hubba, Cissy and Plastic Man, you can also download the pdf version, with a theoretical reflection on the tragedy.

Top 5 Inspiration Triggers

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Death of a needy pet

My first podcast: Death of a needy pet!



Yes, we do have to thank mr. Bananas for this, and
no, honestly, I didn't call it love just to please an absent audience!

Let me know if it works for you!

* as someone pointed out by e-mail, it might not be a bad idea to also provide you with the possibility to download Death of a needy pet as a pdf.