Junax sat with a lazy eye and a lithe latex suspender draped upon his sofa area. They were knee-capping each guest that came on This Morning that day and leaving them to stumble around the foam map of Britain re-erected in the Thames just for the occasion.
Junax felt his arm glued to his torso with sweat. He'd just been up to the coast where he had been rewarded with a heavy cold and as he came back on the train, there were a bunch of 14-year old spides singing about lovely, fluffy sheep to the tune of 'When the Saints...' Junax had a stinking head and was fantasising about having an uzi and slowly gunning down each of the little cunts with more graphic and deliberate imagery. He was in a strange sense of deja vu where he'd been on a train before with spides singing about fluffy sheep.
He got to Belfast and found the wee hallon had done it again.
In recent times he had developed a taste for girls ten years younger than himself, which wasn't so bad as he was 35, but it was an unwise attraction nevertheless.
This one had told him she had found a legal accountant called Simon. They'd spent all night going through figures of last year's income rate bracket.
This was the last time he would buck a culchie!
Well, it was certainly the last time he would buck that culchie anyway. She was bucking Simon now which worked out good for him as it was his first time and he would be able to declare sex as an income-free tax return. That was what got Simon the most wet.
'Fucking tractor pulling wee tart...' Growled Junax to his empty room.
It wasn't the sudden stop that killed yer, it was the fall. The rejection. He couldn't believe it. This was new, he'd been rejected for a younger model!
'Some dickless wee know-nuffin cunt, a right vapid fucker and as immediate and exciting as a pot of beige emulsion.'
Again, to no-one.
Now Junax was needy sure, but Simon took the biscuit. Years later a girl would know he was stalking her as he broke into her house and tidied her towels for her. He'd insisted Junax's bit of stuff draw up an affidavit swearing he was her boyfriend. If she didn't he would probably murder her. Suffocate her with invoices or something or just brain her to death with a brick in a stocking.
But hey, psychopaths are the new sexy and Junax wasn't
'Fucking hate women'.
He just lump it and join the club. There was a long waiting list.