![]() ![]() We keep getting dirty looks from the ladies, but this only encourages us. I drink too much, as does Alex, and we start talking about music and find a common bond over our love of Queen. I plead with my wife to get up, but she won’t. During the knife thrower act, they ask for a member of the audience to participate. Carmen is uptight and likes a good moan so her and Fay get on great. Tonight after the kids disco, there’s a knife thrower and then karaoke.Ĭarmen and Alex from Liverpool befriended us a few nights ago and they join us for drinks. ![]() ![]() The entertainment at this hotel leaves a lot to be desired, but sometimes it’s so dreadfully bad, it’s good. We sit outside and the night air is cooling. I decide to book her in for paragliding, water skiing and the banana ride for the next day, in the hope that fate may take a drastic turn, or at least to get a few hours respite from her fucking face. ![]() She dies at least twice a day in my imagination. In fact it’s probably these thoughts that keep me sane. I’m not quite sure when I realised this, but recently I have recurring thoughts about bumping her off. I stand and take a bow and tip the waiter generously. Everyone in the restaurant cheers and we all raise our glasses, a few let off party poppers. In my mind’s eye, he smashes the decanter into her stupid face repeatedly and she bleeds out all over her tepid chicken. The waiter hovers with wine and I gesture for him to fill my glass and thank him. Stuffing my mouth with chicken salad, I stifle my temptation to tell her that I wish she would choke on it. I can feel my annoyance mount as she pushes it around her plate. She picks at her chicken and I find it unbearably irritating. She talks a lot, but never really says anything. She thinks loudness is uncouth, which is funny really as she never stops talking. They’re probably having far too much fun for her liking. She also eyes up the other couples, disapprovingly I can tell. She moans about the chicken – it’s tepid, apparently everything is covered in oil and the guy frying the fish was picking his nose and looked dirty. In my early years I absorbed as much of the world as possible. It’s amazing how much of my life I shut out these days. I observe all this with my own soundtrack. Children frolic in the shallows, and a couple on an airbed kiss passionately. A couple play bat and ball near the water’s edge, I find this very strange. I chuckle as I pop my headphones back on. I imagine her entangled in the seaweed, choking down seawater, drowning and floating off towards the horizon. I give her an incredulous look and shake my head. #Flappy bat towel full‘It’s full of seaweed, it’s all sloshing about near the water’s edge.’ ‘Go and have a dip in the sea, it’ll cool you down.’ ‘Well, next time I shall bring my other woman.’įay harrumphed and flopped back on her lounger. ‘You are in the shade, with factor fifty on, wearing the biggest sunhat on earth, what else can I do to help?’ ‘Well, we are in Tenerife in peak season, my sweet.’ If her voice were music it would be brass, or bad gamelan. I begrudgingly remove the headphones, and Fay’s drone replaces my ambient tunes. ‘Jack, Jack? Are you even listening to me?’ Her tongue like dry salami, flaps in her mouth – her whiney, pedantic, never-has-a-good-word-to say-about-anyone mouth. It reminds me of the stringy cheese in that pizza advert. There is a line of spittle in the corner of her mouth it catches repeatedly on her dry, flappy lips as she witters on with herself. I watch as Fay’s lips flap, her face twisting into strange, exaggerated shapes as she moans on and on. ![]()
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