A Brand New Me: The hilarious romantic comedy about one year of first dates. Shari Low
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СКАЧАТЬ that morning telly show. Exposure, that’s what we need, then the record companies will be lining up. Honey, you know I wouldn’t, I promise. Why would I want to shag anyone but you, huh? This is just networking, babe, taking advantage of the opportunities.’

      I was glad I already had my bag over my shoulder because a whole ‘fumbling for my belongings’ episode would have completely spoiled the effect. Plus, then he might just have seen how upset I was, and that would have been the biggest tragedy of all.

      Instead, I just kept on walking in the direction of the door, and I promise it was just an inexplicable reflex action that caused my left arm to flick out and knock a whole bottle of Shiraz into his lap.

      He sprang up, dropped the phone and yelped out a high-pitched ‘What the fuck!!!?’

      I automatically did what I always did in situations that called for a cunning reply with an acerbic tongue. A mantra of ‘What would Trish say, what would Trish say?’ tore through my mind all the way to the door. As a blast of freezing cold air hit my face, I suddenly knew.

      I turned to face him, his chiselled features now contorted with blind fury.

      ‘You know, Matt, your band was okay…but to be honest, it was really nothing that special.’

      And then I cried all the way home, totally irritated that I’d been such a twat. If this was change, adventure and excitement, I’d happily go back to my rut.

      PROGRESS SUMMARY: IT’S IN THE STARS DATING PROJECT

CONCLUDED
LEO Harry Henshall Morbid fascination for simulated violence
SCORPIO Matt Warden Lead singer, lying arse

      EMAIL To: Trisha; Stu From: Leni Lomond Re: If last night’s date had a personal ad, it would read like…

      Male, 30, Scorpio, wannabe rock star with all the pelvic thrusting moves, could charm the knickers off a nun, talented, good looking, ambitious, and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. Has own leather trousers. Prepared to sacrifice dignity, morals and sperm in the name of success. Very sociable, with large network of friends, and happy to screw them over or sell them out to get to the top. Would like to meet powerful, well-connected, open-minded female with job in A&R department of a successful record company, who wouldn’t mind sharing him with existing girlfriend. Or Simon Cowell. Revolving bed and Surrey mansion a bonus.

      Applicants to apply in person at local shit-hole pub, Saturday night, 8 p.m.–tickets £5.

       The Daily Globe, Female Section, 20 February

       Interview with Zara Delta, Sage to the Stars, by Camilla Beaufort-Dodds

      The first thing that strikes me about Zara Delta is her inner glow–but not quite in the way you might imagine. I soon discover that the inner glow is caused by two small battery-operated green light-bulbs that she has placed within her cheeks, in order, she informs us, to harness the powers of ‘light energy’–a practice she claims calms her mind and rejuvenates her inner life-force. She made no comment as to whether or not she was concerned about the potential health hazards that could be caused by holding two live batteries in her gums.

      Ever the professional, however, I see that she has had the foresight to colour-coordinate her flashing cheeks with her dress of choice today–an elaborate green kaftan adorned with what she informs me are ancient Masai symbols, a garment that was gifted to her by the tribal head of a small village during a recent private trip to Africa.

      Thankfully, Zara removes the light-bulbs before our conversation begins; however, I do confess to being slightly alarmed when she suddenly clenches her eyes shut and the tone of her voice plunges dramatically.

       ‘ You’ve had a recent loss,’ she informs me in hushed tones. ‘And it involves…it involves an animal…a very dear, beloved animal.’

      It seems prudent to confirm that yes, only a few weeks before, we had indeed lost Crackers, the horse on which I’d cantered since childhood. I was deeply comforted when Ms Delta assured me that he was in a better place where he could gallop freely, unburdened by the pains of old age.

       Surely such perception and insight into the lives of others must be a devastatingly emotional burden to bear?

      Zara nods wearily, her frame slumped in exhaustion after our opening exchange.

       ‘Sometimes it is difficult,’ she agrees, ‘but it’s also a very special gift that I feel so privileged to have been given. And I feel it is my duty to use that gift to improve the lives of others.’

      She pauses to take a sip from a wooden clay pot on her desk, containing a mix of herbs and cleansing roots–a recipe, she tells me, that she discovered many years ago while living among the people of the Andes.

       ‘That’s why I’ve decided to write my latest book–a relationship guide that will revolutionise the modern woman’s approach to searching for their perfect partner. Today’s women have lives that are busier than ever–they’re juggling careers, hectic social lives, personal fitness and family obligations, leaving them little time to focus on what really matters: finding love. This is where I will help. I will give them a foolproof plan that will identify their needs, and then show them how to fulfil their dreams. This book will, quite literally, change lives.’

      Sadly, our conversation is brought to a premature end by an assistant who interrupts to inform Zara that a certain A-list household name needs her urgent advice. As she rises, she re-inserts her inner glow and hugs me tightly.

       ‘I’m so sorry to cut this short, but that’s another consequence of this gift–I have to go to those who need me.’

      And if you are one of the thousands of women who need Zara Delta, her book will be available in all good bookstores in December.

       9 The Aries Date

      ‘Maybe this one will be better,’ Millie said, as I filled her in on the details of my next trip to Dating Hell Central.

      ‘Are you saying that because you really mean it, or are you just trying to keep my spirits up with moral support and false hope?’

      ‘Definitely moral support and false hope,’ she replied with a giggle. ‘Is it working?’

      ‘No,’ I said bluntly.

      The fortnight since my Scorpion disaster had been a roller-coaster of emotions that had finally derailed a couple of days before, when Trish had sat me down, swept aside the first ten drafts of my resignation letter, tossed away my new copy of How to Spot a Tosser with Your Eyes Shut, and given me a stern talking-to.

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