I’m nervous to go to this meeting, not only as it’s host seems to be our lord and saviour, the big lads dad but because it’s the first ounce of exposure the world has seen of my problem beyond confiding in friends and meeting up with the Albanians.
I’ve washed my clothes, plan to shower and cut my nails – anything to suggest I’m not what I’m due to confess I am. You’re telling me an a##### can look this good? Take a look at my nails, these shits have been buffed BUFFED let’s not be silly now, an a##### has no time for manicure excellence.
I’m nervous, yet I am the man I am. What has a man got, if not himself. If I was a gambling man, I’d have every faith in my success. I just need my jeans to dry on time, or all this shit comes crumbling down.