It was the three of us. In the old man's pub on the Botley Road. We went straight for the cheap spirits. Neither of you was even old enough to be there. But we got served. And on what was a very ordinary Sunday afternoon in West Oxford, we necked the spirits and hugged each other as a grinning, careless trinity, and that was as fulsome a threesome as we ever were.
If I had special powers, I'd have enormous sex with 7,000 girls at the same time. But second to that, I would be in that pub with you two, necking cheap spirits, linked arm by arm, with the uncomprehending eyes of the barman flitting over us.
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