It is Em's leaving drinks. We have the best corner table in the Crown in Clerkenwell. As some of our friends leave, a group of blokes sit down at our other table and fixate on us, I mean, really glaring across the table.
The Crown is one of those cool London pubs where people would rather poke their eyes out with a sharp stick than give you inadvertent eye contact. What's all this? From their voices, it's apparent they're not from round these parts. Middlesborough, I'd hazard a guess. They're trying to get our attention. Soon I hear the phrase 'load of lesbians' drifting across the table. 'I think you should ask these girls to the party' one of them says loudly. 'I think they're having their OWN party' says one of them, suggestively. His mates ignore him.
Eventually one of them muscles in on Em and Rebecca's conversation. He starts trying to guess how old they are. I think I hear him tell Rebecca that she looks older as she has more lines around her eyes, and Em that she looks younger because her face is rounder. They are both hooting with laughter. 'You don't give up, do you? That's the beauty of you...' I hear Em say.
I go outside for a cigarette with Yasmin. Two of them follow us out. 'You' one of them says to me. 'You have got the most gorgeous, perfect arse. Don't let anyone tell you different.' 'Um' I say. 'Thank you.' 'No really' he persists 'it's just a really great arse. It makes this beautiful peach shape when you sit down.' He walks in a circle around me to check it out. 'I feel like a dog' I mutter to Yasmin. 'And I wouldn't be telling you, only I'm a bit drunk.' He smiles winningly at me. 'It's the hair/hat combination I like' says his friend.
Considering I'm standing next to Yasmin, who is absolutely gorgeous and wearing fishnet stockings, heels, and a lowcut little black dress, at the same time as being mortally embarrassed I'm feeling quite pleased with the attention. I don't know if this is the 'chat up the mate to get the attention of the bombshell' tactic, but it's working for me.
'Man, he was proper checking you out, innit?' says Yasmin as we head back inside.
'You have got a great arse' has got to be the most crass, least smooth chat-up line I've ever heard. It is the kind of thing you'd never ever hear from a Londoner. They would never walk behind you and stare at your bum, however pissed. Tsk, neanderthal Northerners.
Yet today, I am feeling strangely positive and upbeat.
About pretension
2 weeks ago
