"I had a date last night..." said Hamish.

"Good for you!" replied Marc.

"Don’t be a cunt..." dismissed Hamish.

"I’m not!" insisted Marc. "I’m being supportive! This is my supportive face. I’m like a solid supportive sports bra."

"You’re more like recycled tit tape..." said Hamish.

"How did the date go?" asked Marc.

"It was a disaster, obviously..." said Hamish.

"What do you mean, obviously?" asked Marc. "You’re a catch!"

"Thanks, Sports Bra, but obviously I’m not..." said Hamish. "I just don’t know what you’re supposed to say on a date."

"You just chat..." advised Marc.

"Chat?" replied Hamish.

"Yeah, chat..." repeated Marc. "Chat about stuff."

"I went on a big rant about Kevin Spacey..." admitted Hamish.

"Oh..." acknowledged Marc.

"That’s not sexy, is it?" asked Hamish. "I might have also got onto Felicity Huffman."

"You’re kidding, right?" asked Marc.

"No..." admitted Hamish. "I had a lot to say about Felicity Huffman."

"You’re an idiot..." smiled Marc.

"I told you, I’m rubbish at this..." shrugged Hamish.

"Has he messaged you since?" asked Marc.

"No..." replied Hamish.

"Oh well, not to worry..." comforted Marc. "Plenty more crabs in the bath, or whatever they say."

"What is this opera?" asked Hamish.

"Death in Venice..." replied Marc.

"What’s it about?" asked Hamish.

"You haven’t read the book?" asked Marc.

"Nope..." admitted Hamish.

"Thomas Mann..." said Marc. "It’s a classic. All about a paedophile who gets obsessed with a young Polish boy in Venice."

"Right, sounds like a barrel of laughs..." nodded Hamish. "Not problematic at all."

"The past is a different country..." shrugged Marc. "They do things differently there."

"That’s a different book..." corrected Hamish. "I'm not completely illiterate."

Follow Gareth Johnson on Twitter

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