Vince's 50th Birthday Party ( Part 2)

The story continues... Graham and Sue are at the party. 

Sue

Graham knows Vince because they both played for Notts Under 11’s. They still tell everyone they could have gone pro. It gets worse when they're pissed. Graham’s just back-slapped Vince for saying they would have been the team’s first choice strike partnership if it wasn’t for fucking Tony Woodcock. The truth is that they were both substitutes and spent most games ducking bitter crosswinds and unplugging lumps of dogshit from their studs.

Vince’s booked out the function room in The Nag’s Head. There’s a mirrored ball rotating above us and Cindy’s the only person thrashing it out on the dance floor.  She keeps waving her Saint Tropez stained arms round her lollipop head, it’s meant to  be cowgirl lasso style, but it looks more drowning. Cindy’s gaunt and asexual, she’s done every diet known to Hollywood. Her boobs still wouldn’t make a handful after all her reconstruction. Another two drinks, I reckon, and I’ll show her a thing or two about how to move.

Vince Fortescue’s a dead ringer for Peter Stringfellow. He’s one of those rare men to possess an abundance of hair without any telltale receding tide-line. That’s not necessarily a good thing, but I always tell Graham I love Vince’s hair because Graham’s nearly bald.  Sounds cruel, but Graham’s ego needs standing on with size six stiletto heels. Vince has had his head shaved both sides, left long at the back, a beaver’s tail. His sideways sweep is waxed at the crown in a towering Mr Whippy ice cream. It looks like he’s got a double cock on his head under the coloured lights.

‘Glass of vino, Sue?’

‘Yes please, Vin’ I have to shout back to be heard above Space Cowboy.

‘Large one, babe?’

‘You know me!’ He does as well. We once had a long and repetitive snog in his hallway in 1990 whilst Graham was lying asleep in his dry bath. Pernod. Always does it to him. Vince’s a nipple biter as well. Now, that surprised me.  Talk about rough and ready. It was way before Vince married Cindy, so I don’t feel guilty about it. Anyway, she’s a bitch. I tolerate her, but she creams over Graham. He wouldn’t touch her with a barge pole . He likes his woman to have a bit of meat.

‘There you are, Sue. Get that down your neck. Look at Cindy rocking it out. She’s been on the gin since lunchtime and still looking good.’

‘Yeah, she’s looking good, Vin. Knows how to move.’  Like a flamingo. I can see Graham eying Cindy up in between slugs of vodka Red Bull. His eyes keep hovering round her scrawny thighs. He’ll want pissed up sex later. The caffeine has the same effect on him as Viagra. Viagra nearly finished us off. Every time it’s the chorus, Graham keeps doing left hook punches, completely out of sync with Jamiraquai. Dancing’s never been his forte. He yells:

‘Want anything from the buffet, Sue? I’m off for my first load.’ Graham loves buffet food. He eats platefuls of the stuff, goes back shamelessly for seconds and thirds and fourths, with a chicken grease moustache and pastry flakes all over his shirt. He always holds his sandwiches high up under the light to examine the quality of the fillings aka Alan Partridge. Surprised he doesn’t bring a doggy bag. Don’t know why he bothers asking me, he knows I’m always trying to lose weight.

‘No. I shouldn’t, really. Should I, though Gray? It’s no good for me. No, I’m alright thanks, Gray.  I’ll be good. I’ll have a bowl of Special K later. No, actually, go on then, just get me a sausage roll. Need to line my stomach with this booze. And I’ll have a couple of those posh chicken legs. Just a couple of sandwiches, though. And a few chilli nuts. Only a few of those, mind, ‘cause they’re dead fattening. Make sure it’s only a small plate, Gray. Thanks babe.’

Graham.

Bloody hell, Cindy’s on the dance floor already. God, she’s done some weight. Bit too much if you ask me. Where have her tits gone?  She used to have enormous knockers with nipples like saucers. I remember trying to get BBC2 on them when we were having that shag and then she shouts out “bite them, bite them!” Found that a bit weird. Wonder if Vince likes to chomp away on them. Maybe that’s why she’s lost them, bloody Vince has gobbled them all up!

I’ll give her a bit of encouragement.

“Looking good babe,”

She actually looks like a stick insect, not sure I would shag her now even if I got the chance. I’d worry that something would snap.

There’s Vince. What the fuck has he done to his hair this time. Mind you I’m only jealous as I’m almost a flippin baldy! I do love him, even though he still owes me five hundred quid for that bit of gear he bought last year. Said he had a “cash flow” problem and would pay me back once he’d sold it on. Never happened. Still waiting.

 I’ve known him since we were kids. Played for the same football team. Could have been pros back in the day , me and Vince. Both played for Notts , he was okay, but I was the bollocks.

“Hey big man, how you doing. Happy Birthday bros.”

“Hey, Gray me old mate. Good to see you.”

“You invited Woodcock?”

Fucking knew that would get him. Look at his face!

“Woodcock, the cunt, he couldn’t tie our laces up. Namby pamby player he was. If it wasn’t for him keeping us out the first team, you and me would have gone all the way son. Telling you. All the way.”

I bloody knew it. Mention Tony Woodcock and he’s off on one!

“Right, it’s my birthday so what we drinking. Gray,V and RB?, Glass of vino Sue?”

Oh fuck, don’t give her wine, She’ll be on her back later wanting a bit of action then halfway through she’ll start snoring. Her face, look, it’s lit up like a fire cracker because Vince has mentioned wine. Oh no he’s getting her a large glass! This could get messy.

Bam pa da ta da da. Bam pa da ta da, this is the return of the space cowboy…

“Vince, you and me on the floor son, this is our tune. Remember when we used to throw some shapes to this.”

“Not yet Gray, still early…”

Sod it I’ll get some food before every other greedy bastard gets it. Better ask if she wants some. I know what she’ll say. “Oh no not for me, I’m okay. Oh go on then just a small plate.”  Mind you if she does eat something those seams on her dress will give way. How she got in it I’ll never know. Must have smothered herself in Vaseline!

‘Want anything from the buffet, Sue? I’m off for my first load.’

‘No. I shouldn’t, really. Should I, though Gray? It’s no good for me. No, I’m alright thanks, Gray.  I’ll be good. I’ll have a bowl of Special K later. No, actually, go on then, just get me a sausage roll. Need to line my stomach with this booze. And I’ll have a couple of those posh chicken legs. Just a couple of sarnies and a pasty, though. And a few chilli nuts. Only a few of those, mind, ‘cause they’re dead fattening. Make sure it’s only a small plate, Gray. Thanks babe.’

She is so bloody predictable.

“Okay sweetheart.”

Buffet’s a bit of a poor show. Looks like Cindy’s raided Iceland!

I swear if I hold them up to the light I can see right through these ham sandwiches!