"Well? Are you going to share it with us - or save it, for your chummies in the Drug Squad?"
"Celibacy," I said.
There was an impressed silence.
Richard Finch was staring at me bulgy-eyed as if he couldn't believe it.
"Celibacy?"
"Celibacy." I nodded smugly. "The new celibacy."
"What - you mean monks and nuns?" said Richard Finch.
"No. Celibacy."
"Ordinary people not having sex," Patchouli cut in, looking at him insolently.
Really there was a very changed atmosphere around the table. Maybe Richard had begun to go so far over the edge that no one was sucking up to him any more.
"What, because of some tantric, Buddhist thing?" said Richard sniggering, one leg twitching convulsively as he chewed.
"No," said sexy Matt, carefully looking down at his notebook. "Ordinary people, like us, who don't have sex for long periods of time."
I shot a look at Matt, just as he was doing the same to me.
"What? You lot?" said Richard, looking at us incredulously. "You're all in the first flush of youth - well, except Bridget."
"Thanks," I muttered.
"You're all at it like rabbits every night! Aren't you? In, out, in, out and shake it all about," he sang. "You do the Okeekokee and you turn her round, and do it to her from be-hind! Aren't you?"
There was a certain degree of shuffling round the table.
"Aren't you?" More pause.
"Who here hasn't had sex in the last week?" Everyone stared hard at their notepads. "OK. Who has had sex in the last week?" No one raised their hand.
"I don't believe this. All right. Which one of you has had sex in the last month."
Patchouli raised her hand. As did Harold, who beamed at us all smugly from behind his spectacles. Probably lying. Or maybe just puppy-love-type shagging.
"So the rest of you ... Jesus. You're a bunch of freaks. It can't be because you're working too hard. Celibacy. Pah! Talk about bums off seats. We're off the air because of Diana so you lot had better come up with something better than this for the rest of the season. None of this limp no-sex bollocks. We're coming back next week with a bang."
Thursday 4 September
8st 6 (this must stop or jail sentence will have been wasted), no. of ways imagined killing Richard Finch 32 (this too must stop otherwise deterrent value of jail sentences annihilated), no. of black jackets considered buying 23, no. of seconds not had sex 14,688,000.
6 p.m. V. happy about return-to-school-autumnal-style feel of world. Going to go late-night shopping on way home: not to buy anything as financial crisis, just to try on new "brown is black" autumn wardrobe. V. excited and determined this year to be better at shopping i.e. (a) not panic and find only thing able to buy is black jacket as only so many black jackets one girl needs and (b) get money from somewhere. Maybe Buddha?
8 p.m. Angus Steak House, Oxford Street. Uncontrollable panic attack, Shops all seem to have just slightly different versions of each thing. Throws self into thought fug with mind unable to settle until has encompassed and catalogued all, for example, available black nylon jackets: French Connection one at F-129 or high-class Michael Kors (tiny, square quilted one) at E400. Black nylon jackets in Hennes are only ?39.99. Could for example buy ten Hennes black nylon jackets for price of one Michael Kors one but then wardrobe would be more riddled with more black jackets than ever and cannot buy any of them anyway.
Maybe whole image is at fault. Maybe should start wearing brightly coloured pantomime outfits in manner of Zandra Rhodes or Su Pollard. Or have a capsule wardrobe and just buy three very classy pieces and wear them all the time. (But what if spill or throw up on them?)
Right. Calm, calm. This is what need to buy:
Black nylon jacket (I only)
Torque. Or maybe Tong or Tonk? Anyway, choker thing to go round neck.