Sitting here, all shy. All fingers and thumbs.
This shirt, too big round the collar, driving me crackers. Could get a ferret down it. If only mum hadn’t put the purple one in the wash! This collar, pointier than Madonna’s bra, so last year. F**kin ‘ell, make that last decade. Shouldn’t have had my hair cut last week, either. Always takes three years off me. Can’t afford to lose three minutes! Ears sticking out like Prince Charles!
Band driving me mad. Boom, boom, bleedin’ boom. Can’t think. Never mind talk. Always loathed them anyway. Christ, I hate this. So friggin hot. Sweating buckets. Oh God, there’s Janet Clay! What the hell’s she doing here! What on earth am I going to say? Wasn’t my fault, honest, all confused. She would show up now.
Gotta do something, this is nearly the end. Be OK if I can just get over …