‘Oh, I saw the real him, all right. The junior was male. Apparently, I was his Christmas beard.’
‘Gay and a total wanker?’
‘What can I say? I know how to pick them. But that wasn’t even the lowlight of the evening.’
‘I almost daren’t ask. But I will.’
‘Well, the worst of it was being taken to one side by my line manager—a senior gentleman high of standing and a very high opinion of himself—who said he knew something that would make me feel better.’
‘I don’t think I like where this is going.’
‘I should’ve stopped him there, but I didn’t. Instead, I followed him with my sodden tissue, panda mascara eyes, and battered self-esteem. He took me to the bar. Said I needed a drink.’
‘Not so bad so far.’
‘He was doing okay at this point, but then he insisted his pet elephant pay for my gin and tonic since the open bar had closed at that point.’
‘The open bar is the failing point of many a party, but this pet elephant intrigues me.’
‘He was about to reveal all, quite literally, as he pulled four five-pound notes from his pocket, turning out both pockets of his pants. He slapped the cash down on the bar, climbed on a barstool and unzipped his fly, thereby giving the elephant a trunk. Sort of.’
‘A trunk?’ I try not to laugh and fail. Fail quite badly. So badly I have to put my drink down.
‘Must’ve been a baby pet elephant,’ she adds. ‘A really wrinkly, small baby elephant.’
‘What a rough evening.’
‘It was. I still can’t look at the man without seeing him push the queen’s face about with his flaccid, old man penis.’
