Gin and Titonic

I have just learned: Don't read your posts back. It's just embarrassing. Did I really say that? What was I taking?

I have just had a gin and titonic-yes, titonic. It's ice shaped like the ship that sank - except this one sinks into gin! I have a feeling if the poor people who perished on that doomed vessel had the chance to do it again, but this time in gin, they wouldn't hesitate to jump on board. Jordan Colyer bought me this novelty gift when the gin ladies came to stay in Brighton. It's a yearly tradition as all our birthdays are in June (bar one - but she didn't come this year so I exclude her - for this post only) We went to Carluccio's and made orgasmic noises throughout dinner, and then spent the rest of the evening making belching noises.

You see, here's a thing I'm going to relate to you because you will find out (most probably yourself deduce) very quickly: the gin ladies are going to hell. We are immoral, scathing, gin tongued horrors. And I LOVE it. Just the other night at a Clapham bar, we discussed mutual acquaintances and their lack of intelligence, we openly laughed at a woman who fell off a stair and we mocked a girl who thinks having constant windswept hair (including indoors) is a look to emulate. The fact she walks into things must surely tell her she should rethink her style.

I am normally a very moral person, and I think deep down so are the other gin ladies. However, being together is a good opportunity to rail against the stupidity of the world and most of the people in it - it's really very therapeutic.

Let me introduce you to the gin ladies:

Jessica Hitch is a gin swilling bitch. She works in Knightsbridge and tries to sell agas to dimwits and rich twits with no sense. She's very good at her job.

Jordan Colyer lowers the tone. She's markedly deaf in one ear so an innocent and chaste drink in Starbucks will quickly turn into a Colyer induced exodus as she discusses the ins and outs of something sexual (and mostly disgusting) all at a voice loud enough to blow the froth of someones latte three tables away.

Kate Mann gets drunk, and quickly so. Once sufficiently sozzled she doesn't hold back. There's no excuse when all the gin ladies are together - you will get an earful if you make the slightest error.

I am Matthew Parker. I don't like incompetence and neither do the other gin ladies, though of course we are ourselves the personification of incompetence; we can't get through a meal without spilling it on ourselves and I can't reach the end of a sentence without spraying an unfortunate person nearby with a good dose of saliva.

So there you are, in all our glory, I give you just a brief introduction to the fairly terrible but fabulous people that are the gin ladies. I thought it best to do so as we make good material for writing, therefore I have a feeling you'll be reading a lot more of our little tales from now on.

Thanks for reading.