The Blue Monday Diaries by Michael Butterworth

Author:Michael Butterworth
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780859658669
Publisher: Plexus Publishing Ltd.

2:30am

Mike and Mark’s taxi is waiting. Rob seats himself on the couch in HA and adamantly refuses to budge until his shoes are returned. No one except Barney knows I’ve taken them, but he doesn’t know where I’ve put them, so I am safe. I need to ensure my own shoes are returned. It is the only leverage I’ve got. A stalemate has resulted. It’s a kind of game – a kind of political brinkmanship – I normally hate playing, but I’m beginning to see that here it is par for the course.

Rob skins up.

So they can get home, the engineers search for Rob’s plimsolls . . . and find them where I have badly hidden them, near the billiard table. It is what I feared – that someone not directly involved in the mischief would discover them – and I kick myself for not hiding them more carefully. My position is now back to what it was earlier in the day.

At the last moment, New Order make an exerted show of searching around for my shoes. Hooky tells me (rather pointedly, I think) to search inside the numerous empty cabinets. But I am not prepared to search and by so doing concede that my shoes weren’t taken by any of them, when patently they were. Looking slightly put out by my inactivity, but grinning, and still shouting at me to help them look, my boots are shortly discovered – by Hooky.

I now suspect Hooky, Barney and Rob, in that order – the reverse of before. But it does not look like I am going to discover the culprit. It was all three equally, I decide, but Rob slightly less equally I now conclude. Which is now a little unfair on him, because of the film Barney and I made.

Back at the flat, it does play. The film cuts from Rob charging at Barney straight to an erupting sphincter. As planned, unless I’m kidding myself, it does seem like Rob’s. Barney has zoomed in on it, and it looks like a hideous, sightless, trunk-less thing roaring out into the world. It gets twelve action replays before our rib-cages fall apart and we tire of it.

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