By Lydia Wilson and Laurel Ahlfeld
Date: 26 July 2000
George to Jewels
*ring ring*
Hello, George
Hey, Gorgeous, having a good time?
Not particularly, but I did what I came to do.
What? You split them up?
No, I said goodbye.
Good girl. I'm proud of you, be prouder still if you were dancing.
I have big plans for dancing. Just give me 30...35 years.
Oh the misery. The exquisite tragedy. The Susan Haywood of it all. I can just picture you there. Sitting alone at your table in your lavender gown...
Did I tell you my dress was lavender?
Hair swept up. Haven't touched your cake. Boridly drumming your finger nailson the white linen table cloth the way you do when you're really feeling down. Perhaps even looking at those nails thinking: God, I should have stopped in all my evil planning to get that manicure, but it's too late now.
George, I didn't tell you my dress was lavender.
Suddenly a familiar song.
*Say a Little Prayer For You begins to play*
Then you're off your chair in one exquisite movement. Wandering, searching, sniffing the wind like a dapple deer. Had God heard your little prayer? Will Cinderella dance again. Then, suddenly, the crowds part and there he is. Sleek, stylish, radiant with charisma. He,oh dear, he's on the phone. But then, so are you. And he comes towards you, the moves of a jungle cat. And although you quite correctly sense that he is...gay...like most devastatingly handsome single men of his age are. You think: What the hell. Life goes on. Maybe there won't be marriage, maybe there won't be sex, but by God there will be dancing!
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