ZZZZZZZZZZ

I'm going through "the change", or at least, I'm about to. First, I had a job interview. The head guy, dressed from head-to-toe in black, oozing Jewish camp, was decent. The lady that followed him was kind: when she told me how much I'd be paid if I got the job I was almost aroused!

Next up came the written test. I was to speak to no-one and was forbidden from using the Internet. Twenty minutes in, though, a problem emerged. It was my bladder. It was bursting, and yet I had two-and-a-half more hours of brain-teasing.

Nearby, one of the worker-bees was not working, so I asked him for my minder's extension. He gave it to me, I called her, and let me out to the loo. Phew!

That evening, I met up with my girlfriend, Z. I cycled, saving time and money. Except that I got another arsehole puncture. Which meant that after watching District 13 - which was pretty enjoyable nonsense - I had to walk all the way home from Camden.

But before I did, I made a decision, of sorts. I no longer had anything to say to Z; she was beginning to smother me; and her insistence that I a) lied about not knowing that the film was in French and b) that I should have averted my gaze from the screen because she wanted a kiss, just riled me. Now I just need to tell her. She'll be heartbroken. But I just have to do it.