She goes to the bar. When she gets back I start telling a story about someone who says I’m back in town! at the point of orgasm. As I’m telling the story it dawns on me that it’s actually her story I’m telling back to her. Fuck. This has happened to me before. Sometimes it’s harder to back-pedal than others. I wonder whether I’ve got the sympathetic bias right. I’m telling it from the point of view of taking the piss out of the person who says I’m back in town. It’s so hard to be spontaneous and thoughtful at the same time. This is why you’re generally better off staying in and watching TV or interacting safely on the internet behind a semi-affected persona. The outside world demands too much reality. And I find reality stressful in the extreme. Reality doesn’t give a person enough thinking time. It renders one ill prepared. For a moment, I’m fucked. I pull things round by telling her an embarrassing thing I once said after an orgasm: Mmm, that’s welcome! If in doubt, self-denigrate.

‘I know a story like that,’ Nicolette says. She looks confused. ‘What am I going to do about my phone? It’s the fourth one this year. Did you know 15 per cent of phone users in the UK are operating with a cracked screen?’

‘I believe it.’

‘It’s like they DESIGNED it to be painful, difficult and expensive. A glass phone! Fucking larks.’

We drink through the pain.

Hours later, we are in a private members’ bar. Everyone loves a private members’ bar until they’re in one. I’ve been to the toilet twice to take cocaine and I think everyone in here is highly aware of this fact, particularly the pianist. I also possibly have a nosebleed, or a runny nose, one of the two. I feel genuinely fantastic. We have had a bottle of expensive wine because this is the kind of place that sells nothing else – a rash proposition when I am literally sinking into debt. Fuck it! We have thus far put three pictures each on Instagram, and one video of us flossing with a doorman.

‘Let’s promise not to regret these and delete them tomorrow,’ Nicolette says. ‘It’s always such a giveaway when people do that. Let’s OWN the social media fall-out.’

‘Agreed.’

The wine slides down my throat. It is cocaine’s throat now. It is cocaine’s world.

‘What did you fight about with your old friend?’ says Nicolette.

‘Kelly?’

‘I haven’t met Kelly, have I?’

‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘I know who she is, though. I saw a picture of her online – she left a funny comment on a picture of yours so I clicked through.’

‘Hm, yes, she does that.’