Neil Arnold sits waiting. He’s been waiting almost an hour and can’t handle another coffee. That shit will kill him ahead of the smokes. His interviewer is known to be a right jolly fella and that is probably something he can’t handle either, God bless him. He has taken to staring at a couple of college girls by the bar inside, real beauties. The kind he might like to chat with only work comes first. Perhaps if they walk by him on route to the Ladies they shall recognise who he is. They must. Another fleeting hook-up is begging to happen. Last night’s one was unforgettable. Sure doesn’t he still have her underwear in his coat pocket. Memories and smells. God bless the pair of them. He’s been meaning to shut it all down, his wife will have a fucking conniption.

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