Nine

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from: martintrhiggins@acemail.com
to: richardvhirst@acemail.com
sent: 09.03.10 at 21.10 pm
subject: RE: Hello!



Richard,

I apologise for my lack of correspondence. It has been quite a month. I have moved out of Tony's place and am now staying at the B & B just outside town. It's run by Mrs. Throttle, a former circus freak and current holder of the North West Women's Wrestling Federation's championship belt. After I last wrote to you, I decided that it was time to get back on the saddle (not the one that Tony had installed in his kitchen but the metaphorical saddle) and get myself back in the game. The best way to do this, I thought, was by throwing myself at the mercy of our town's bustling nightlife. Tony and I started by celebrating my new found freedom at 'BEWBS', the only strip bar within 200 miles. I don't know if you remember 'BEWBS' Rich, I think we tried to get in there once on your 16th birthday but failed due to both of us being dropped off outside the venue by my parents, in clear view of the bouncers. My mother's insistence on getting out of the car, running after us, and presenting us both with packed lunches did our attempt at decieving the doormen no favours. Anyway, this time Tony and I entered with ease and I must admit I felt a little shudder of electricity flow through me as we pushed through the curtain of beads that separated us from the ilicit thrills within. Sadly this turned out to be quite a strong reaction to the static electricity contained in the curtain and I went into convultions for around 7 minutes. Tony managed to convince the staff that I was "only mucking around" and somehow got me seated at the bar. When I regained consciousness I was rewarded with the sight of Tony whooping and clapping as a middle aged leather sofa disguised as a woman gyrated wildly in front of us to the sounds of Chris Rea's 'Lady In Red'. She wasn't even wearing red Rich, she was wearing a purple and green tracksuit with the legs and sleeves cut off. I ordered us a round of drinks which ended up costing £57.86 (two pints of Sultry Mist which I am SURE is just Sailor's Breath rebranded for the erotic dancing market) and prepared to face the next 'performer'. This turned out to be 'Lambrini' who was a shaven headed midget woman wearing a fishnet kagool. Her tune of choice for her seductive manouveres was 'Snooker Loopy' by Chaz'n'Dave. It was at this point I dragged Tony away and we walked back to town. If this was what the single life entailed here then I wanted none of it. I must meet another lady.

The next day at work, I was talking to Mildred the receptionist at Betterbins about my issues with meeting women and she suggested a dating agency. I found a place on Main Street called 'Blind Date Mate' and after a long discussion with a member of staff about my likes and dislikes, my allergies, and my most irrational fears, I was told that this agency would be able to set me up with at least three different blind dates over the next few days. I went home, excited at the prospect of new love awaiting me. The next day I recieved an email with details of the venue for my first date and the time I should be there. I arrived at The Golden Badger promptly at 8 pm and was shown to my table. Five minutes later my date arrived. It was quite clearly Mr. Bradley Nichols, the man who'd interviewed me for an hour at the agency the day before, only now he was wearing a green wig covered in glitter and an orange catsuit. He looked like a transexual carrot. He introduced himself as 'Brandine' and I made awkward small talk with him for ten minutes before finally excusing myself and walking out. I simply told him that I was not in any way interested and wished him good luck. The next day I recieved another email with a new date location and time. With some trepidation I arrived at Mario and Luigi's (Authentic Thai Cuisine) and was once again faced with Mr. Nichols this time masquerading as 'Ladybelle' and sporting a 3 ft beehive wig and a faux leather mini-skirt. I turned on my heel and left. The third email I simply ignored.

After that I tried internet dating. A site called 'www.ewwwwwww-harmony.com'. After 29 pages of questions and a rather uneccessary eye test, the site produced one match. Lambrini, the miniscule stripper with a thing for sexy rainy day clothing. Finally Tony and I went along to a speed dating night at The Posh Whelk. After an initial problem with the process which saw myself and Tony sat in front of each other for three 'changes' in a row, and a few awkward sittings with women who actually drifted off during my minute of chat, I found myself blathering at speed to a young lady called Sally. She actually seemed interested as I described myself and my interests at rapid speed whilst dabbing at my brow every three seconds to absorb the Niagra Falls of sweat that was pouring from my, well, my pores. I stopped and dropped my head to indicate that I was finished and that she could now get up and leave. To my surprise she lifted my head, said "Let's go", and we went and had a drink elsewhere. She's very nice and I'm seeing her again this week. I'm not going to say more about her until I see her again, I don't want to jinx it. Unfortunately Tony met someone that night too and that is why I am living in a Bed and Breakfast. She is called Tinkerbell. She is 6 ft 4 and can open tins of soup with her teeth. She moved in THE NEXT DAY and I quickly found myself on the streets. No really, I mean she actually threw me out of the bedroom window.

Well anyway I have rambled enough. My dear Richard it seems we both have promising women on the go. Agatha sounds like a keeper, I've never known you to get to the Le Loi dynasty with any of the girls here. She must be a special lady. Good luck sir, keep me updated!

Martin