Imagine having an affair with ben's wife. She'd get really angry at you as you turn your head every time the door in the restaurant slams. She'd be like 'He's not going to know. He hasn't got a clue. He's too interested in his precious fucking books to care what you or I get up to. Would you eat some of the hors d'oeuvres for christ sake?!' while you pop the collars up and sink into your chair.
no, this was a few years ago. At the Cock, of all places. Everybody was leaving, and I went for a quick jimmy before heading back to AMP's house. I'm standing there, swaying, going about my business, and the door flies open. He's kicked the door open, and then he's standing there, holding onto the edges frame with both hands, arms outstretched in crucifixion pose. A faraway look in his eyes. Dead mouth. I do a lol and carry on, turning back to study an advert for a text message service. Then I hear like a squeal and a scuffing noise and before I can turn round, there's this sudden weight on my trousers that almost knocks me into the urinal. I can't turn around properly because I'm trying to hold my jeans up with one hand and prying these rigid, burning fingers away with the other hand.
For a few seconds, neither of us are saying anything. I'm just struggling against this twisting weight. It's urgent, but somehow slowed down. I feel something like pincers on my inner thigh - a sharp clipping of the skin - and it jolts me out of shock. I shout something, probably just a noise, and instantly I'm given back control over my jeans. I finally get to turn round, and ben's on the floor, eyes bulging, and he's literally rolling around on his back in the small pool of urine that's collected over the night. His tweed blazer is soaked. Hair stuck to his forehead. Eyes locked onto a spot on the floor in front of him. I don't know what to say. What can you say? I hear a lock click in one the stalls, so I just get out of there, still doing up my jeans. The stall opens as I let the door to the bathroom close behind me.
We never spoke about it. I tried to bring it up at StevieX's wedding, but he just denied it ever happened.
It's funny but I'd almost forgotten the time he asked us to stay over after a meat. There wasn't any space so Ringo and I had to top and tail on his sofa. Do you remmeber that Ringo? So we were all having a nightcap and having a laugh and I made a joke. I don't even remember what it was but it was just a quip off the bat of what Ben was saying and D started laughing really hard. Ben just had this look on his face. Sort of, stunned but trying not to let it show. Anyway, we finished our whiskey, ben and D went to bed. After Ringo fidgeted for about 20 minutes I drifted off. I woke up in the middle of the night, actually it was probably approaching morning by then and I wanted to know the time so I reached for the phone I'd put in my shoe. I could hear quite heavy breathing, as if someone was stood over me. They must of been a big person because their breaths were long, like someone with a broad, barrel chest would sound I suppose. I called out, but my mouth was dry from the whiskey. It came out more of a hiss. 'who's there?' Whoever it was backed off slowly and I heard the door to the living room go. Then the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, creaking with each step.