This is a warning for a specific Angela who lives in Durham. Your man has been unfaithful! I heard him on the train yesterday (Sunday 25th September) bragging about his infidelity. The man and his mates got on the train at York at 2:10 and left the train in Durham at 3:00, before heading off to the Bridge pub. I’m not sure about the culprit’s name, but he has some mates called Nicky, Darren and Robert. They’ve all got strong North-eastern accents. They’d been celebrating their mate’s birthday with a weekend away in York. They stayed in a hotel in York; not sure on the name. They went out to a number of clubs in the area, including Flairs and Reflex. So, there are clues for you Angela that might help you identify whether this is your man.
I suppose it rests upon my shoulders – since I am a writer of a blog that gets read by … some people (and one of those could be you Angela) to let you know about this man’s infidelity. I’m sorry if this is painful, but I feel that you deserve the truth.
I had no choice but to listen to the men’s conversation; your man, Angela, was shouting very loudly and was sitting on the seat opposite me. I found him to be a very annoying character, and frankly I can’t see what you find attractive about him Angela. Now and again some spit would fly out of his mouth and land on my face, which I found even more disconcerting than I may do usually because I knew what he’d been doing with that mouth the night before, and the night before that, because he loudly told everyone all about it on the train. I will spare you the graphic details that we weren’t spared on the train Angela, but let’s just say that I may have to check myself into a sexual health clinic, what with all his spitting on me. “I took ‘me plunger and plunged it right up her shitter”, he loudly declared to his mates, and the rest of the train. An interesting start to a sexual fling I thought: for some reason he had come across a complete stranger in a club, who must have – at some point during their initial chat – mentioned that she was having a problem with her toilet. Presumably she had some kind of blockage due to excessive bowel activity. This man was kind enough to spend some of his weekend which he was meant to be spending with his mates – to help unblock her toilet.
It appears – and I’ve had to do a little bit of lateral thinking here because the man wasn’t clear about how things progressed – that the woman was so moved by this man’s altruism towards her (and happy also to have found a man who doesn’t judge and dismiss her simply because she might have more of a propensity to crap than the average human being) that she had sex with him.
But this wasn’t the end of the tale, because it transpired that the next day, he took his plunger again and “plunged it right up her shitter”. So in the space of one day she had managed to block her toilet again. As with yesterday, she rewarded the man’s altruism by having sex with him, and a whole lot more (which I won’t go into here because it was quite graphic and I like to keep this blog clean. Plus he used some very interesting sexual metaphors which you might not be savvy enough to comprehend. I mean, obviously, I am, of course).
What I find odd about this tale is that the man then left her on the Sunday and returned back to Durham to you Angela. I know things are pretty bad for you at the moment, but I can’t help thinking about that poor girl he’s left behind in York. She’s finally – after years of searching – found the man of her dreams: a man who cleans her toilet and doesn’t ask awkward questions and judge her because of her overly-active bowels; a man who accepts her for who she is. She is so consumed with relief and joy that she makes love with this man. The next day he cleans her toilet, and again they make love. She’s probably already starting to think about having children with this man. “After all, why not? he’d be happy to change the nappies and clear up the mess”, she’s thinking; as long as he didn’t expect their kid to remunerate him in the same way as she would, then this would be the perfect arrangement.
But this man, after everything that’s happened, just gets up and leaves her, returns to Durham and to you Angela as if nothing whatsoever had happened. This wasn’t the harmless friendship that it might have been: a chance for him to help a damsel in distress. Sadly, as so very often happens in tales concerning distressed damsels who are rescued by brave and gallant men, she ends up having sex with him.
I’m sorry I had to be the barer of bad news Angela, but I think you disserve the truth. Sometimes this blog is just me rambling about nothing at all, but then other
times it’s about making a difference in the world, and bringing the truth to a poor, betrayed girl in Durham. It’s not easy being a blogger, but I take my responsibility seriously.
I’m off to see if any of the girls in my street need any odd jobs doing.
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