To Clerkenwell to see Elvina last night. (What else did anyone expect me to do when in London by myself on a Saturday?) I thought it might be quiet with the Bank Holiday and so many people being out of the city, but instead it was packed. Lots of eager eyed blokes who were already paid up members of her fan club, or had heard about her and were desperate to see what all the fuss was about. She didn’t disappoint, slinking onto stage, making sure everyone lingered over the length of her legs, the plump roundness of her bust and the lasciviousness of her pout. She was a cartoon cheesecake pin-up, surrounded by a pack of salivating wolves and loving every second. Through the show she blew kisses to the crowd, winked at us and treated us to some banter about how when she got out of her tight clothes, it was hard for her to put anything on again for awhile (you can imagine the reaction she got from that).
I was too far back to make any real connection, or for her to see me. As much as I enjoyed her show that was a shame as last night I felt like I could have spoken to her. When she comes off stage for a break she sometimes makes her way to the bar, and I thought I could have lurched over and just introduced myself. Told her I was a big fan and that I sometimes wrote about her, just to see what she said, how she reacted, whether she did know me. I didn’t care last night, I was feeling like I did when that mugger held a knife to my throat in January and I refused to give any money – I just didn’t worry about the consequences. The throng was too wound up though for her safely make her way through, but I’ll be back. I felt confident last night and I feel confident today. The thought has struck that the things inside my head are like a puzzle and it’s up to me to solve them. And I can solve them.
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