She just didn’t have their… style.

But why lie about it?

Why – when you boil it all down – is she so desperate?

That’s the problem Maxy my boy. Frankly, you could sit here and play with your little beard all night – but you’ll never get over that. After all – there are bucket loads of blokes out there with far more to offer than you. Why isn’t she with one of them?

So… why the desperate attraction? Was it possible that his small measure of celebrity was motivating her? Was she hoping to get her picture in the newspaper? Surely not – Broken down footballer arrives in London with new girlfriend – not what you’d call big news!

Anyway, mate, you’ll never know.

You’ve got to move on – now.

But Max was in no hurry… and he did feel a little sad. He liked Rita – parts of her anyway. Maybe… if she’d been a bit more open minded… more willing to give India a chance… if she could relax and stop trying to convert him the whole time… who knows, he may have given the idea of traveling with her a bit of thought.

But all this harping on about London was intolerable. And that story about how she got her money – a plane crash? A mine in Africa? In fact, not just a mine –  “one of” the mines?”

Why didn’t you ask her how many they had?

Come on… give us a break…

She was making it up as she went along!

She didn’t seem like a lawyer at all. She had all the stories but a lawyer would have been… less nagging and more convincing… like on T.V!

And what about the degree in creative writing – like hell!

Mate… who cares?

Don’t worry about it!

Just… move on.

She was more like a prostitute than a lawyer. And that would explain the money – if she really had money. One thing for sure – she certainly knew a bit about how to enjoy sex.

And she certainly had you sucked in there for a while didn’t she?

Come on – admit it.

You were gone mate! –hopeless! – admit it!

It was true – there had been a moment when he had gone on to imagine himself cruising around the West Indies with a bunch of his mates on a nice yacht with Rita there – like his own personal muse. It was an odd fragment of fantasy she’d stumbled on and fired up within him.

But there’s no way it’s ever going to happen.

Not now, not ever…

It’s just a matter of how to get out of it – nicely.