Harrison Chase and the Persistent Four

I know I promised to tell you about the headmaster next, but I’m hungover and can’t be arsed. I’ve had some hair of the dog but it hasn’t touched the sides.

I was out clubbing last night in a pair of gold PVC trousers. It wasn’t fancy dress before you ask, I just happen to have a very loud wardrobe. My mate Dan once told me that I don’t have outfits, just a load of costumes.

I rocked those trousers last night, I felt like I was in Studio 54. I’ve totally got my swagger back.

I was shit faced by the time I left the club. My swagger became a stagger, then I went arse over tit and faceplanted the tarmac down Kennington Lane. The trousers were ripped to bits, as was my knee.

Anyway, about the persistent number. I have always said that dating is a numbers game. For me it seems to be about one number in particular, four.

I haven’t got past date four with anyone since I dumped that loser nearly two years ago. It’s like a curse. Something always goes wrong before or on date four. It’s often disappointing because there’s got to be something there for it to get that far. It happened again last month actually, but I’m keeping that particular disappointment permanently under wraps

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that I’ve got a very rare fourth date with someone this Wednesday. If it goes well it will be new territory for me, if it doesn’t, the curse of the persistent four will have struck again.

I’m quite nervous about it actually. This fella is handsome, he’s nice, he LOVES indie music, he codes, seems reliable, his name forms a hilarious pun when combined with mine and he has a good head on his shoulders. He has unexpectedly grown on me. Date three ended with a rather electrifying kiss. I know, get a room.

Next time I’ll tell you what I got up to in the headmaster’s office. I still find myself grinning when I think of that one.

Alright losers, get back to it

Harrison Chase logging off

X

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Sex, Lies and Internet Dates

Hi fuckers,

 

Let me make it all about me for a bit.

Do you know when a fridge suddenly switches off and it’s only then that you realise it was making a terrible noise for a very long time? I’m feeling that kind of quiet and calm now.

The very high pitched nasal whine of an exhaustingly persistent mood hoover has stopped.  I wonder how I ever put up with it in the first place. How did I ever take arguments so seriously when it sounded like beaker from the muppets was shouting at me from the other side of the door.

Here’s a thought….

We were always getting post addressed to Mr Harrison Chase and Miss [insert slut case here]

I used to think it was because people thought he was an abbreviated Janet, but maybe the confusion arose when they heard his miserable lady voice on the phone.

Anyway, enough of that lying sack of hate, we’ve got a proper divorce agreement now, and more importantly he looked like utter shit when I last saw him, which is the most important thing is it not? I looked fucking great by the way.

I am back on the dating scene now, as I was way back when I first erected my magnificent column. I’ve had one date so far, he was very handsome. I mean he was very handsome six years ago when his profile picture was taken.

This all sounds very negative, but things are actually amazing. I feel happier than I have in years. My new flat mate is a real joy to live with, I have abs that my gran could wash socks on and I finally found that checkered suit.

Anyway, watch out everyone. I’m back, and this time I’m in slim fit MacCallum tartan.

Harrison

x

 

 

The Four Day Hangover

Welcome to my most miserable post yet! Excited? Well grab yourself some Prozac and a Tramadol and we can get started.

Things have gone tits up since my last post ‘The Happiest New Year’

The hangover has kicked in, and it’s persistent. The love thermometer (that’s not a sex toy by the way) rose too quickly. It has blown up in my face (not a euphemism) and now there’s glass everywhere. I’m pretty sure no amount of uhu will be able to fix it.

This is even more disappointing than the Snowcoco Malibu. Even my new 50″ 3D TV telly hasn’t thrilled me as much as I’d hoped it would.

There’s always a plus side though, and here it is….

I had an unexpected surprise this morning.  David Bowie has got a new album coming out. I thought I’d heard the last of him. The single, released today is called ‘Where are we now?’, what a strange coincidence. That’s exactly why I’ve been wondering since Friday morning.

When I was younger I was obsessed with the  Thin White Duke. I bought the coat he wore in the Man who fell to earth. I used to watch Ziggy Stardust the motion picture with my mouth open, my eyes open even wider and my hand pressed against the screen.

I get very enthusiastic about the things I like. I met Adam Ant once and collapsed like a little girl at a beatles concert. I wasn’t a little girl at the time, I was a fully grown man in Scala at Kings Cross.

Right enough whining. I can’t dawdle, I’ve got television to make.

Laters
Harrison