Slag meeting

It happened. The first complete meeting of the slags. The Dame, Ophelia, Desdemona, Othello and myself. The place, Zizzi's Italian restaurant, St Albans. The prompting event: Ophelia's birthday (reaching the ripe old age of 407).

St Albans really is a pretty place. And the food was as delicious as the conversation. Why did nobody invent Calzones earlier? Folded pizzas are the way to my heart, completely, utterly.

It has occurred to me, as a post-meeting matter, that perhaps talking openly about golden showers and intercourse-induced rope burns whilst in the midst of posh folk might be a class A offence.

The thing is, it's perfectly permitted to talk about dates, or what you did when you got home, as long as you don't actually use the f word and say it all in barely audible whispers. Of course, I'd rather drink petrol than lower the tone of my voice. and the thing that riles me most? the number of people who'll happily turn their noses up at my vocal whore display only to go home and suddenly find themselves slipping it into their wives as she bends over to pick up the pizza ad that's coming flying through the door whilst they were out.

It seems to me, talking about things and doing them are not only separate issues, but emerge from different universes completely. At least my words won't cause my wife to suffer concussion when she collapses one I've rabbited her. Puh!

Now, I have a fear: perhaps there are many more people who are as prudish about this sort of thing than I'd ever imagined. I want opinions and comments from all of you regarding this matter. Is there such a thing as a correct place in which to talk about matters of sexual potency. Apart from the bedroom. Though, judging be certain people, I'd pay money to watch them talk dirty after Coronation Street had finished on the tele.

I also fear Othello might have been a tad uncomfortable with the explicit nature of the discussions taking place. Whether Desdemona has briefed him on the issues before the meeting is an issue I'll need to address with her I suppose. Perhaps the blank look were about something else entirely. Of course, you never really know what people are thinking.

Another point worth mentioning: The Dame and Desdemona acted rather well around each other. None of that slippery flirty filth, or peering into cleavage that wasn't for show, or any of that. It was all so, so, innocent. If Othello hadn't been around, might the dynamics of our meeting have changed? Having said this, The Dame's recent women phobia might have kept curtailed her behaviour with or without Othello.

As for Ophelia, she took us to a great cocktail bar in St Albans which truly was deserved of the praise she showered over it. Although, the names of the cocktails make them sound less beautiful than they actually are. 'Porn star' and 'Sucker' being two of the most delicious.

All in all, a great day. And it all ended with my meeting Arthur and half of the London Bridge Drug Circuit for drinks at our London Favourite 'Thirst'. As his love life gets more and more complicated, his fashion sense increases threefold, the jeans get more and more expensive and, by default, the women swarming around him, like moths to a flame.

Here's to you all!