Sinister: Faggy but nice

[Lucy Alder]

*WARNING – THIS POST CONTAINS THE WORDS ‘SWEATY CLEAVAGE’, ‘FAIRY’ AND
‘WRIGGLE’*

Yo

I found an article about the Miss Jumbo Queen 2003 competition held in
Thailand recently and began cursing Oon for neglecting to bring us this
important piece of Thai elephant news!  But then I realised it was a
competition for laydeez, not heffalumps.  See here:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/2992665.stm

Everyone keeps saying how quiet it is around here.  And it is.  But it’s
nice to see the odd breakout from the Sinister Old Folks Home.  Somebody
once said that Sinister is like a great big witness relocation programme –
you can move to almost any city in the world and immediately slot into a
circle of friends.  Going to LA?  Give Mr & Mrs Bapps a ring.  Holiday in
Paris?  Look up Elena and her dinofrog.  Dreading your trip to the
Midlands?  There’s this chap called Ian who’d love to liven up your stay. 
Next weekend, the Sinister brotherandsisterhood descends on Glasgow and
we're ready to catch up with old pals and show the new folks around town. 
In case you didn’t see my last email, first of all, you are a MEANIE for
deleting my lovingly crafted epistle without reading it, but anyway. 
Here’s the plan:

SATURDAY 17TH MAY AT 2PM, KELVINBRIDGE UNDERGROUND STATION CAR PARK.  THE
TAP ON SAUCHIEHALL STREET IF IT RAINS.

If you can’t remember that, write it on the back of your hand.  It’ll fit
if you write small enough.  And send me a privvy email if you want my
mobile phone number.  I know how anxious one can get about approaching a
big gang of Hello Kitty lovin’, recorder playin’, frisbee throwin’ kids
you’ve never met before.  I’ve been there, sweetie.  I’ll hold your hand
if you want.  Also, I have a word of advice for those of you not familiar
with this tartan land: bring a brolly.  That's three words.  Never mind.

Those of you that are in town the night before, do come down to the
Winchester Club (http://www.geocities.com/the_winchester_club) to see the
Dudley Corporation, dance and eat cake (chocolate and fairy are looking
likely).

I don’t know what to wear to the picnic.  Jeans will be too hot for the
gig but a skirt might be too cold for the picnic.  I could bring a second
outfit and wriggle into it in some pokey toilet cubicle, but then I’d have
to carry all that stuff around with me and a rucksack never goes down well
at a gig.  In fact, it’s almost as bad a crime as standing in front of me
with your long, frizzy hair, so it gets stuck in my sweaty cleavage, or
barging down the front when you’re the tallest man in the house (cf Big
Stu – only joking!)

Girls, I need advice, what shall I do?

Juicy Lucy


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