him before we went off to Brighton. He was laid out on the sofa and was watching Red Dwarf. The doctors were happy that his swelling had gone down enough and that his ribs weren’t too badly cracked and he would be good enough to move about as normal within two weeks. Sasha and I had a cup of tea watched an episode of Red Dwarf and then headed off to get our bus.
Poor ol’ Martin still has to lay with his right arm around the top of his head. I have never broken a rib and never want to, it sounds awful, it doesn’t seem like you can do anything to help with the pain, you just have to wait until it heals. Martin does seem quite happy with his prescription of painkillers though, he says they seem to make things a lot more ‘colourful’.
Brighton was pleasant; we sat in a quiet coffee shop at the sea front for about three hours just chatting. We only actually bought two drinks each in this time and I am sure the owner was giving us evil looks, not that it was busy.
Sasha has invited me around to hers tomorrow day time… parents away, score! She has also invited me for dinner in the evening when they get back, I have said yes, but I am very nervous about meeting them. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to say when I shake her dad’s hand?
“Hi, I’m Matt! I am banging your daughter!”
Sunday, February 26th
After what seemed like five hours of bathroom preparation I went to Sasha’s and spent the day having sex and cuddling. I think we are really getting good now, it is not so nervy and we are both a lot more relaxed.
I experienced my first oral sex today. Wow! Now that is what I’m talking about! I performed and was performed upon. Performing was amazing, but the latter nearly made me pass out.
After my amazing morning at Sasha’s I popped in on Martin to see how he was getting on. Martin found out yesterday that the police were not going to be following up with the charges that he had pressed against Todd. He is pretty gutted about it and I am staggered by the complete lack of justice in this silly country. Apparently no one else would back up Martin’s story, so there was just not enough evidence to proceed. Surely a broken jaw and ribs is evidence enough? I guess that the fear of being beaten up by that tosser must have got to all of the witnesses. Martin and I vegged out and watched Deep Blue Sea. A rather enjoyable shark thriller, in a nutshell it is: clever sharks eating the shit out of crap actors.
If ever Sasha and I split up and I enter a relationship with someone else, here is a list of things that I will not do when I meet ‘their’ parents for the first time:
• Arrive late for dinner (my mum insisted that I washed the dishes before I left for Sasha’s – cheers, Mum!)
• Appear on the front door (opened by both Sasha’s mum and dad by the way), panting and with my flies fully undone. To top this off, Sasha’s mum’s introductory comment was, “You must be Matt, do you realize your flies are undone?”
• Step on the cat’s tail. Twice.
• Break a dinner plate by dropping a knife onto it.
• Say ‘shit!’ after dropping my knife onto my plate.
• Cut myself on a piece of broken plate, created by my dropping a knife on it while saying ‘shit!’
• Say ‘bollocks!’ after cutting myself on a piece of broken plate created by my dropping a knife on it while saying ‘shit!’.
• Cough with a mouthful of food, firing a bolas of spaghetti across the table.
Sasha obviously thought all of this was hysterical and spent the majority of my entertaining visit laughing to the point of tears, but I have never been so embarrassed. I think it’s probably the last time I will ever be invited over for dinner! It will be a lot cheaper for them to keep me away, what with all the crockery they will have to replace and the very expensive vet’s bills.
Monday, February 27th
School was very good today; I had a Science test and not only answered all the questions, but I would even go as far to sat that I think I have actually done pretty well too. So much so that I didn’t quite have enough time to finish as well as I would like. That has to be a good sign. I am quite a quick writer (quick and very untidy actually) and usually finish exams with enough time for a good 30 minute snooze.
Sasha and I stopped at Lickin’ Chicken on the way home. I had three pieces and chips and she had the veggie burger. The way my stomach is cartwheeling at the moment, I feel the veggie burger was the winning choice! The amount of pure fat I have ingested is very grim indeed. I still feel kind of nauseous now, in fact…
…Yep, just vomited – lovely, stomach is still turning over quite a bit too. This is not going to look pretty on the way out the ‘other end’. The shop should be renamed “Shittin’ Chicken” I think. It’s the last time I go there!
Tuesday, February 28th
I have spent most of today either in bed or on the toilet with great thanks to the chefs at “Shittin’ Chicken”. Needless to say I didn’t go into school today. I am not often ill so Mum and Dad didn’t give me too much grief about missing a day of school, but my dad did ring at lunchtime to ensure I was genuine and not having a Ferris Bueller episode. I have been firing out of both ends at high velocity all day! It is quite a skill to maintain a steady stream out of your bum while stretching to throw up in the sink, but I seem to have mastered that one. The only major pain in the ass (pardon the expression), is having to scoop up the chunks from the sink and fling them into the toilet on top of the patiently waiting liquidy crap. Not nice at all.
Sasha rang me this evening and told me about her day. Todd had been at the school gates at the end of the day and slapped her face (she did slap him first though, which is good). Apparently he stood in front of her as she tried to leave the school and asked her, “Why are you wasting your time with that tosser when you can have a real man? Have you fucked him? I bet he has a tiny cock!” This was the point that she slapped him (defending my honour! That’s my girl!). Then, being the decent human being he undoubtedly is, he slapped her back and called her a slag. He really has got it coming to him if I run into him on his own, nutter or not I will punch him out – even if it does mean I take a kicking.
Must dash, my bowels are calling. Actually, not so much calling, more shouting!