So, I got the email. And the outcome? My beautiful friend lasted 45 minutes in the wonderful Klute a couple of nights ago, before being utterly seduced by a strapping Rugby player (we've all been there...haven't we?) A night of drunken passion resulted in an 'eurgh, did i really?'-esque expression when faced with the reality of his face at 8am the next morning. He soon left the vicinity of her bedroom, naked, picked up his jeans, grunted his way in to the kitchen, then into the room of a startled housemate, then FINALLY, the door. Still naked. I think I found this so amusing; do you think he realised he was naked as he passed people on the road at 8am? I'm hoping he was like the Emperor from that tale, The Emperor's New Clothes. Fucker. Yours, Penny Lane xxx
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