Most of the city woke up and went to work, but there was one lovely, nubile young maiden who scoffed at such things. “Fuck work,” she said petulantly, her perfectly-glossed lips pursing peevishly.
Luckily, her wizened, old, wrinkled, hunched-over, Quasimodo, 25-year-old friend AJ was there to save the day.
“Let’s go hiking, damsels!” he said brilliantly, brandishing hot mugs of tea and leaving me wondering just how in the blue blazes he managed to break into my flat.
And so we went.
By “hiking,” of course, I mean we got all dressed up in appropriate hiking clothes and spent an hour at the bottom of a very small hill taking pictures that make my ass look good.
Afterwards we spent a few hours at the Fox and Tassel pub drinking appletinis and eating kidneys on toast, and then had a lovely old afternoon photoshopping all the pictures inbetween threesomes with my newest best friend Victoria. Who, aside from being far more attractive than old Fi, also brings to the table a large country house, two trust funds and remarkable double-jointedness.
TAKE THAT, FIONA.