Alice and Jason Youngman-Howe were the couple in the group that no one ever invited to social gatherings and yet somehow always managed to show up like an unexplained stain that you simply couldn't get rid of no matter how hard you scrubbed. As to how exactly they found out each time about the gatherings to which they'd not been invited was anyone's guess. Certainly no one admitted to letting secret plans slip and whilst naturally there were always fingers pointed in accusation, everyone denied culpability, though in whispers they would all quietly speculate, compare notes and each had their own suspicions on who the guilty party might be. No one could come out and simply ask them how they knew because that would be tantamount to admitting they'd deliberately been left off the guest list in the first place. However they were aware, Mossad should probably be sat taking notes because it was clearly an impressive operation they mounted which seemingly never failed to deliver on its intelligence gathering objectives. You imagine you could go to great lengths to secretly arrange to fly everyone else in the group out of the country to the arse end of nowhere only to discover they'd both landed on an earlier flight and checked into the same hotel two hours before and would feign innocence that their presence there was purely coincidental. The ‘isnt this a coincidence’ line was now wearing very thin. Why can't some people just take a hint? It's not like they were subtle ones either.
The reasons for not inviting the pair were as clear as a bottle of Evian. Alice's voice constantly descant in a manner that always sung me, me, me in a high pitched whining way like a doodle bug in the second world war above the sound of everyone else's general collective hum. A problem aired is a problem shared unless… unless someone steals your problem and claims ownership through the use of one upmanship or simply replaces it with one of their own as was her want to do, always needing to be the centre of everyone's universe. Every word departing from Jason's mouth facile but always remarked with such conviction that it was clear to all who'd still listen that he had no idea of just how stupid he really was. Both imagined they were part of the Surrey intelligentsia, but the closest either got was when he visited the little boys room and checked the sign on the door going in.
If you've ever had the misfortune of having to let one rip in public and found the smell followed you around like your shadow for the next sixty seconds or more unable to be shaken off no matter how many turns you took, then you'll have some understanding of how hard it was to get even the briefest restbite away from one or preferably both of them. Wherever you hid they'd find you like children at a kids party where the adults snuck outside for a sneaky cigarette like they were back at school and despite their best efforts were always somehow caught in the act. Most gatherings ended with the two sexes splitting off from one another so the men could moan about their football teams and the women could moan about the men. The women had a made a pact that if Alice was in attendance then they'd all take one for the team and they'd all subtly sneak off one by one for some much needed restbite and leave whoever's turn it was to have to sit and listen to Alice and make audible noises because getting a word in edgeways was nearly always an impossible task. To start with they'd all deny that it was their turn next and so a spreadsheet was devised with a rota system and if it was your turn and you tried to claim you were double booked for something the Youngman-Howe’s were hosting, then your penalty would be double duty the next time around. Upon this news even Anthony who'd always been very much the only man to stay on the wrong side of the divide at the end of the night having zero interest in any sports, decided it was infinitely better to stay with the men than have to ever sit and listen to Alice in a one on one.
One night the baby of the group, Felicity, more commonly known as Flic, one who was naturally quiet in her disposition anyway, had been taking her turn for the team when Alice had finally stopped listening to the importance of her own whining and realised everyone else was missing. Finding nothing to say to stop Alice, Flic could only watch on helplessly as she went on a hunting expedition and returned a few minutes later with several sheepish looking women in tow to who Flic was mouthing the word sorry to each in turn. As the story was retold to her later, upon finding them all, Alice had reacted not by questioning why they were all stood out of sight but had instead said, bold as brass and with zero ounce of shame “Christ alive ladies you're going to have to come back and help me, you can't get a word in edgeways with Felicity,” which had been met with a stunned silence. Even Katie who usually always had an extra word to say hidden up her sleeve in emergencies in case a conversation ran dry was looking like a dog when someone's just blown in it's face. They could tell that each other were all thinking a variation of the same thing, namely ‘What our little Flic who doesn't say more than twenty words a night? Are you fucking joking?’
It transpired that there are some things you really couldn't make up and as each one of the remaining women sat there either with mouths still gaping wide open in shock or at least button lipped not saying a word, Alice had found the perfect audience and was off jabbering once more like a blue bottle stuck in an outhouse.
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