‘My Christmas was shit.’
‘Thanks for telling me that, Reg.’
‘How was your Christmas?’
‘Rather irksome. Not shit.’
‘I bet you had as bad a time as me. Go on, you did didn’t you?’
‘What did you do that was so awful, Reg?’
‘I spent about ten days getting totally rat-arsed with Nigel.’
‘Sounds wonderful.’
‘What did you do, Davy-me-lad?’
‘Pretty much the same as you, Reg, but with Nelson and with plenty of good music and sparkling conversation.’
‘You go out much?’
‘Once or twice.’
‘Any sex action?’
‘Cough! Did er . . . did you go out at all?’
‘I spent New Years Eve in the Miners’ Welfare with Nigel. We played pool all night.’
‘Did you win?’
‘He thrashed me. Beat me ten-nil. I was lucky to get the nil, actually.’
‘Ha! Fancy you being beaten at pool by a man who is only five feet tall.’
‘Stop laughing. You know what?’
‘What?’
‘If Nigel were two inches shorter he’d be illegal on the Isle of Man.’
‘I know.’
Why am I not surprised Nigel is good at playing pool?
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