I met Luscious Lola for lunch - she was late as usual. While waiting I strolled into a mobile phone shop (not that I need one) on the high street. They are all over the place and staffed mainly by skinny 19 year old goateed nerds sat in front of computers. Annexed to this particular orifice, oddly, is an outlet selling fur coats which I couldn't help but step into. Two large women by the till arose immediately and sailed towards me like stately galleons. I pretended not to notice and in an attempt to act natural stretched an arm out to stroke a particularly ghastly garment next to me...
"Don't touch this! Are you serious buyer?"
"Oh, well, erm... why yes, of coooouurrrse" I lied.
They looked me up and down and stood defiantly, daring me to venture further. I noticed the hefty price tags and was tempted to tell them that I could pick up a similar coat in any charity shop on Kentish Town Rd for a fiver, but thought better of it. I spotted Lola through the window and made my excuses - promising to return sometime in the next decade. Back in Blighty I always live by the rule never to buy from a rude shopkeeper. If I applied that rule here I'd starve. We cosied up in a favourite little eatery of ours serving traditional Polish food.
Lola squinted at me... "Why you have bird?" she began.
"What? I don't have a bird. I presume you're talking about the winged variety?"
"Why you say you no have bird?" She leaned in... "Yes you have bird. Why you no cut this?"
"What? Oh... my BEARD. It's just a little stubble."
"You look like you run away from prison."
We ordered and within seconds she was yabbering away about some Italian bloke she'd met who had - surprise surprise - charmed the pants off her in the pub.
"But he was short. So shame." Of course they would adore Lola who is platinum blonde (courtesy of L'Oreal). Its true that Italians are often vertically challenged so she'll have to leave the heels at home, no doubt he'll want her to put them on later in the bedroom.
