‘Bourne this way

Glyndebourne again! He kept finding himself back here, despite swearing off it – and at it – every year. He’d have to find somewhere to do a quick line or, fuck it, quite a few. In fact, he was wet-fingering the empty bag (oo-er) in no time, and less than an hour later he was being hauled out by two toughs who weren’t even wearing any sort of bouncer outfit and, they proudly told him as they shoved him into the pebbled car park, didn’t even work there. They just loved Handl so much that they decided to get a ‘Handl’ on him and stop him doing football chants over the music, as he laughingly related as an imaginary guest on BBC Breakfast the next morning, winking at Rita Chakrabarti when the camera was off him and wanking at her later before sinking into a pit of self-disgust that ended in him ordering another bag of much shitter bugle.

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