Vintage Logs

Zoe came round to the boarding house last night. She wanted to talk about what happened on Saturday night. She said she hadn’t been thinking straight and she hoped I didn’t think she was leading me on. What the FUCK?? She was the one that practically forced my hand onto her boob. I was holding out for Lindsay Joyner for God’s sake. Now Zoe’s screwed that up. I know what girls are like – always talking about boys and what they’ve been up to. Now Lindsay’s going to think I’m in love with Zoe and Zoe’s going to make out that she’s never been interested and I’m just some desperate tit grabbing loser. What a bloody mess. She basically raped me. Of course I was massively cool about it and told her there was no problem.

When she left Henry came into my study desperate to know what had gone on, being all pally. What a sham. He’s just after more dirt for his house notes. If he wasn’t such a power crazed freak maybe he’d have the confidence of more people and wouldn’t be finding the whole task such a struggle. I changed the subject to the massive log someone left in the guest toilet under the stairs. It’s about the size of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s forearm and has been there so long it’s now started to go white around the edges like a dog poo from the 1970s. I don’t know how we’re ever going to find out who did it unless there is some sort of medical inspection in the house for someone with a stretchy enough bumhole. Dr Cleaver would doubtless be only too willing to carry out such an inspection, the dirty perv. He’s the sort of doctor who likes to diagnose all manner of illnesses by cupping one’s nuts.

Ralph’s here. Signing off.