NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP

I felt decidedly seedy, like some sort of pervy old
geezer. If I had a crotch I'd be shuffling it and showing
little girls my maltesers. Not a Becka Martin look. I'm
heading faster then the speed of light to 35 and I still
don't have that 'significant other', very Bridget Jones!
Still I have Alan but he's hardly Colin Firth material.
Much too shabby, but in a funny way- sexier. Not that
I'd kick Mr Firth out of bed you understand (just in
case his press agent is reading hee-hee) so Colin are
you up for it?
Not that I have Alan, more like had, I feel the faster
I run towards him the further away he gets.
Ruthie. What an absolute cunt I've been to her. I mean
the girl is crazy about me and I use her when I want to.
It's just that I am a sort of trendy lesbo, I do it because
it feels good and I want to, but it's a man I want.
Trouble is, when I'm with Ruth I tend to turn into the
guy, she brings out a very butch persona that is only
hidden because I look all girly. She makes me feel ( I
blush really) she makes me feel that I'm the strong one,
I can do anything! And why not? It can work, look at
dead-girl Justine , straighter than a ruler and now
mysteriously turned into a Kylie Minogue dancer,
all voguey and intimate. But that's Angela influence ,
now that was a lady who knew what to do with a
chamois leather!
I told Sister-thing about Ruth and she went through
the roof (Ruth!! Sorry!) she really hates her.
"Not that sad little bitch again!" She squawked and
started to pace up and down like some angry little
clown that had escaped from the circus.
"Ruthie is ok, don't worry about it, really!" I blew a
perfect smoke oval and watched it rise. Dirty
habits are the most satisfying.
"She will start all that psycho stuff again! Becka
do you want trouble? I mean really you invite it
in at every opportunity!" Her pacing was reaching
lift off capacity, her hair has been known to
cause G force. I smirked at her and she stopped
pacing:"Your laughing at my hair again right?"
I nodded."Perhaps red is far too 'Maccy D' for
you." I allowed my mouth to curl higher, then she
brained me with an ash tray!
"Fuck of Becks! Don't change the subject!" She
yelled.
I sullenly stood up, head ringing, good job it was a
plastic ashtray that I had nicked from a pub. But
as I left I sang:"Be a clown! Be a clown-all the
world loves a clown!" And felt the door judder as
something Dog size hit it.
I rode my Vespa deep into the heart of Brixton,
further still heading towards Streatham.
Then I decided I needed to spend money, there
was a few little shops very Biba-esque that had
opened. I looked at the lovely shoes, bags and
coats that I could ill afford. Then I heard the
music blaring out of a shop that was painted the
colour of a split Cadbury's Cream egg. Chocolate,
white and orange. Music blared out, but such music!
Rick Astley! "Never gonna give you up!"
Intrigued I entered.

Becka M