A forever work in progress

“Is it alright if I use your toilet?” “ What day of the week is it? “What? Erm … Tuesday. Why do you want to know what day of the week it is?” “Oh I'm sorry I thought we were asking each other stupid questions.”  “Dick head.” “Well you know what they say…” and they both said it in unison “it takes one to know one!” And then they both laughed.  Joe scuttled off to do whatever it was he needed to do. In his absence Davey picked up his phone from the coffee table and checked it for the umpteenth time in the last twenty minutes just in case he'd missed a message from his girlfriend Anna even though he had the ringer on full. Nothing. The disappointment hit him again. They'd had a silly argument earlier in the day and now she was making him pay with the silent treatment. They'll work it out though, they always do. He then checks the football scores, makes a mental note to tell Joe that Arsenal are a goal down to West Ham when he gets back in the room. He's taking his tim...

Charles Callaghan sat down in his drawing room to partake in his daily ostentatious breakfast consisting only of two black cups of Grand Moka Matari Coffee made by Bacha Coffee served in a Hermés Cheval D’Orient coffee cup and saucer, completed with a print edition of the Financial Times. No one was exactly sure the precise point in time he'd slipped into being an utter cunt, but associates surmised it was probably around the summer of 2003. It hadn't been a laborious process on his part, he found it was a naturally occurring talent, some might even go as far as to suggest it was a God given one. Whichever it was, once Charles had discovered his niche he saw no reason to deviate from his position. If Charles’ behaviour was to the chagrin of his wife Penelope then she didn't demonstrate it outwardly at least. This may have had something to do with her weekly trysts with her horse riding instructor whereby the only thing being ridden was Penelope somewhere into next week much...