Pig-face got drunk last night. Came home staggering and giggling away to himself. Has spent the entire day lying on the couch moaning and drinking irn-bru. A fine example to set our son. If he won’t bother I don’t see why I should.
Phil/Saturday, 22nd April
Writing this on a bus on Sunday morning. Have to go and pick up the car after a bevvy session with the guys on Friday night. Hope I can remember where I left it.
What a hoot of a night. MacDonald had had lunch with one of the contractors, so was a few paces ahead of the rest of us. At one point he cornered me at the bar and started on about Veena again. I was trying to tell him to sober up when he stopped me in my tracks.
“It’s her arse,” he said, “ I adore it. Worship it.”
I was going to get ratty with him, when I noticed there was a single tear coursing down his cheek. Now I felt sorry for him, his was one of the wives who didn’t rate a mention yesterday.
“Oh aye,” I said, “Worship it?”
He nodded eagerly. “Aye. It’s perfect. It is the epitome of the female posterior. The best tush in town.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Ah, it’s not bad.”
Charlie Webster, who was leaning over us to get to his drink, heard me. “Veena’s arse? Who are you kidding, it’s a work of art. You’re a lucky bastard, Wilson.”
“It’s only a bloody bum,” I said desperately.
“A bum? A bum?” MacDonald had grabbed my shoulders. “How can you say that? I’m telling you, it’s beautiful, and I worship it.”
Writing this on a bus on Sunday morning. Have to go and pick up the car after a bevvy session with the guys on Friday night. Hope I can remember where I left it.
What a hoot of a night. MacDonald had had lunch with one of the contractors, so was a few paces ahead of the rest of us. At one point he cornered me at the bar and started on about Veena again. I was trying to tell him to sober up when he stopped me in my tracks.
“It’s her arse,” he said, “ I adore it. Worship it.”
I was going to get ratty with him, when I noticed there was a single tear coursing down his cheek. Now I felt sorry for him, his was one of the wives who didn’t rate a mention yesterday.
“Oh aye,” I said, “Worship it?”
He nodded eagerly. “Aye. It’s perfect. It is the epitome of the female posterior. The best tush in town.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Ah, it’s not bad.”
Charlie Webster, who was leaning over us to get to his drink, heard me. “Veena’s arse? Who are you kidding, it’s a work of art. You’re a lucky bastard, Wilson.”
“It’s only a bloody bum,” I said desperately.
“A bum? A bum?” MacDonald had grabbed my shoulders. “How can you say that? I’m telling you, it’s beautiful, and I worship it.”
“Me too,” Webster added.
“Aye, but I was first,” MacDonald argued, “I am the first disciple of Veena’s arse.”
“Hey, hold on, I’m her husband.”
“True. You are in possession of the holy grail, so to speak. And we’ve no argument with you on that score.
As long as you don’t mind us adoring, admiring and worshipping it ... from a distance, of course.”
The rest of the guys had gathered round us now and were nodding in agreement.
“It’s like a religion, Phil,” Wee John said, “And you’re the Pope.”
“Here, that’s a bit sacrilegious. I’m not a very good Christian, but I know my commandments - Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife’s ass.”
“But I’m not your neighbour. I live in Rutherglen.”
“Oh well, that’s okay then.”
Anyway, that’s how the night started, and it only got worse after that. If Veena ever finds out, she’ll kill me.
Veena and Phil have not had a good week. Diary writing seems to have hit an impasse at the weekend as a War of Silence ensued. Phil’s binge drinking is obviously a factor, though not a primary one I suspect.
On reflection the Beyond the Beast therapy does not seem to be right for them. I had hoped the challenge would help them to re-engage, but the reverse seems to have happened.
With a view to encouraging them to explore new areas of sexuality together, and therefore re-ignite a sexual spark, I have given them some literature which I hope they find stimulating both erogenously and intellectually.
Phil seems to be taking the process more seriously now. He was very attentive during the session and didn’t feel the need to punctuate the conversation with rude remarks. This may be due to the bollocking Veena gave him for his inebriated behaviour.
Phil/Saturday, 22nd April
Writing this on a bus on Sunday morning. Have to go and pick up the car after a bevvy session with the guys on Friday night. Hope I can remember where I left it.
What a hoot of a night. MacDonald had had lunch with one of the contractors, so was a few paces ahead of the rest of us. At one point he cornered me at the bar and started on about Veena again. I was trying to tell him to sober up when he stopped me in my tracks.
“It’s her arse,” he said, “ I adore it. Worship it.”
I was going to get ratty with him, when I noticed there was a single tear coursing down his cheek. Now I felt sorry for him, his was one of the wives who didn’t rate a mention yesterday.
“Oh aye,” I said, “Worship it?”
He nodded eagerly. “Aye. It’s perfect. It is the epitome of the female posterior. The best tush in town.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Ah, it’s not bad.”
“It’s only a bloody bum,” I said desperately.
“A bum? A bum?” MacDonald had grabbed my shoulders. “How can you say that? I’m telling you, it’s beautiful, and I worship it.”
Writing this on a bus on Sunday morning. Have to go and pick up the car after a bevvy session with the guys on Friday night. Hope I can remember where I left it.
What a hoot of a night. MacDonald had had lunch with one of the contractors, so was a few paces ahead of the rest of us. At one point he cornered me at the bar and started on about Veena again. I was trying to tell him to sober up when he stopped me in my tracks.
“It’s her arse,” he said, “ I adore it. Worship it.”
I was going to get ratty with him, when I noticed there was a single tear coursing down his cheek. Now I felt sorry for him, his was one of the wives who didn’t rate a mention yesterday.
“Oh aye,” I said, “Worship it?”
He nodded eagerly. “Aye. It’s perfect. It is the epitome of the female posterior. The best tush in town.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Ah, it’s not bad.”
Charlie Webster, who was leaning over us to get to his drink, heard me. “Veena’s arse? Who are you kidding, it’s a work of art. You’re a lucky bastard, Wilson.”
“It’s only a bloody bum,” I said desperately.
“A bum? A bum?” MacDonald had grabbed my shoulders. “How can you say that? I’m telling you, it’s beautiful, and I worship it.”
“Me too,” Webster added.
“Aye, but I was first,” MacDonald argued, “I am the first disciple of Veena’s arse.”
“Hey, hold on, I’m her husband.”
“True. You are in possession of the holy grail, so to speak. And we’ve no argument with you on that score.
As long as you don’t mind us adoring, admiring and worshipping it ... from a distance, of course.”
The rest of the guys had gathered round us now and were nodding in agreement.
“It’s like a religion, Phil,” Wee John said, “And you’re the Pope.”
“Here, that’s a bit sacrilegious. I’m not a very good Christian, but I know my commandments - Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife’s ass.”
“But I’m not your neighbour. I live in Rutherglen.”
“Oh well, that’s okay then.”
Anyway, that’s how the night started, and it only got worse after that. If Veena ever finds out, she’ll kill me.
Veena and Phil have not had a good week. Diary writing seems to have hit an impasse at the weekend as a War of Silence ensued. Phil’s binge drinking is obviously a factor, though not a primary one I suspect.
On reflection the Beyond the Beast therapy does not seem to be right for them. I had hoped the challenge would help them to re-engage, but the reverse seems to have happened.
With a view to encouraging them to explore new areas of sexuality together, and therefore re-ignite a sexual spark, I have given them some literature which I hope they find stimulating both erogenously and intellectually.
Phil seems to be taking the process more seriously now. He was very attentive during the session and didn’t feel the need to punctuate the conversation with rude remarks. This may be due to the bollocking Veena gave him for his inebriated behaviour.
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