Why aren't friends electric?

We went over to our friends the Friedkins the other night. They're a decent enough couple and are unusual enough in that they are people we do socialise with. It was pretty boring. We see them and we drink wine with them and I don't think anyone cares enough to be self-conscious or awkward but it is ultimately dull. The one comic highlight of the evening was Fooey (despite being long castrated) getting impressive erections whilst sitting on the laps of the unwilling Friedkins. David works as an illustrator from home from morning to dusk - he has lots of projects and each one requires lots of drawings. A single drawing being something that needs hours and hours to do. Consequently, he doesn't go out much and has even less social grace than I do.

I like him, but what our relationship should be is going down the pub and talking about cars, freaks of nature, stories of great bravery and lists of pop facts. My wife might let me out to do this, but it would be a hard won concession and ultimately the cause of grief. David's wife would ostensibly not mind but would headfuck him until he agreed to stay in - working. He'd probably anticipate this and simply say that he has to work.

Whatever, the result is that we have another couple lowest common denominator situation. I.e you hardly ever get a couple that you like equally. Either the man is better, or it's the woman. Only our friends Tim and Maz (the unreliable, wont always call you back ones) are truly complementary, and better together than separately.

And tonight we saw the Bulls. Very bright man, Mr Bull, an architect with all sorts of issues stemming from a fairly warped childhood (like having a highly fanciable stepmum who is only 5 years older than you when you are 15 - Yowsa!). Used to beat his wife and kids but then grew out of it, or simply got too weary to do it; not really sure which. Being both architects they are good poster people for the current recession. Yes, it really is the end of the world as we know it. 6 years, Mick reckons, minus this first one. Other people he knows who used to do well out of property are even more apocalyptical. This one chap, Chris and his wife thinks that this is no less than armageddon; The End of Days. They want to do one last property deal, ha ha, converting their back garden into an underground dwelling in order to finance an escape to Scotland where they'll hunt, fish, burn peat and probably shoot outsiders. It's a super plan, only spoiled by the fact that the site for this project is the middle of the most conserved street in this most conserved of towns. If they went to Bath Town Council and suggested knocking down one of their boring Crescents to make way for a super sized carpet warehouse, they'd probably have more chance.

This in itself is quite interesting but it does make me wonder about my £41Ks worth of Vodaphone shares, er make that £35K. That's down from an original stake of £50K which was put into Prudential just before they tanked. Of course, if I'd hung on I'd have hardly lost anything, but then everyone was shorting financial stocks and as far as I knew the Pru was about to go down the Loo. It's seems I have a gift to pick shares at an absolute high point; like pushing a pin into a balloon. Pop! Thus was it back in the late nineties when I lost a few shirts dabbling in dot coms. One after another my top tips came crashing down then; all bar a little firm called Staffware. I bought at £3 sold at £1.50 and forgot that I had mistakenly held back 10 shares. A couple of months later those 10 shares were worth £500 - I was glad I still had them then but it was a poignant what-if moment when I sold them. A £150,000 what-if moment.

Essentially, if you are a bloody idiot you won't make money out of shares unless it is a rising market. I'm a bloody idiot. Maybe I should start betting on shares falling with Options or CFDs. As soon as I'd do this prices would begin to rise and the recession would be over. I'd be broke but I'd know that my actions had saved the country.

Peggy is Micks wife who is his rock in a stormy sea. He could be unfaithful to her, beat her, starve her, be nasty to the children and she will never leave him. It's great in a way but one might be forgiven for taking her for granted. A woman that pleasing just couldn't be that good in bed. Could she? I suppose you could just brief her: Blow me for this long, wearing this outfit, make noises like a wheezing stoat, then get on all fours and cry out 'Fuck me like the dirty pig I am!'.
Hmmm. It's just so crazy it could work.

James their oldest is a bit of a wild card. He seems very mild but there is a fearsome deranged intelligence there, unfettered by the sort of guilt his father has. We always worried that he would get Johnny to do something lethal as part of an experiment or jape. Once we were with the Bulls when James dropped a rock from the high bridge we were on to the dual carriageway below us. No car was hit, but it was startling and disturbing. Not least of all because his parents thought it was a bit of a joke. Sort of, Hey, this is what bright children do for a laugh. Where's the harm in it?