‘‘How’s your love life Lignon?’’ asked Irish Mike one night at The Slovak Pub. It was one of those sleepy midweek gatherings that had kicked off with half a dozen teachers, but soon fizzled out to just a few late night stragglers. ‘‘Ha!’’ I replied taking a gulp of Zlaty, ‘‘it’s interesting… confusing… unpredictable… and not half as eventful as you’re thinking’’.
‘‘Who’s Busminx?’’ grinned Clockwork Orange Paul as beside me Ben shrunk back into his chair, doing his best to suppress a ridiculing chuckle. ‘‘You bastard’’ I muttered, without even turning to look at him.