You worthless piece of shit

What kind of future does your relationshit have when she looks at you with total contempt at midnight on New Year’s Eve? As they count down the seconds on Jools Holland’s Hootenanny which you’re watching because you didn’t want to go out, you wanted to make it a special night in just two of you and she went along with it even though she really wanted to be in the pub kissing random strangers, downing sambuca shots, dancing like a maniac and generally being the maverick, wild, slutty girl she once was before you suffocated the life out of her, here’s what’s happening.

She really wanted to be in the pub kissing random strangers, and generally being the maverick, wild, slutty girl she once was before you suffocated the life out of her.

10! You grasp her hand eagerly like a lost child who has just found his mother.

9! She instinctively pulls it away, repulsed by your neediness.

8! A horrified, hurt look spreads over your face, as if a giant has just picked up the sky and ran off with it.

7! She sees your look, feels guilty and offers you her hand.

She responds with a smile so fleeting even the camera Life On Earth used to show the slow-motion hummingbird’s wing beat could not detect it.

6! You grasp her hand again and squeeze it like one of your adolescent spots.

5! You finally make eye-contact as you grin like a fucking imbecile.

4! She responds with the weakest smile ever to play upon a girl’s lips, a smile so fleeting even the camera Life On Earth used to show the slow-motion hummingbird’s wing beat could not detect it.

3! You “realise” what caused her initial reaction. “Time of the month?” you say.

2! “Yes” she says, blankly with withering contempt that you are too crushingly thick to perceive.

1! You place your other hand over hers which she is now in danger of losing from lack of circulation.

Happy New Year!!!! She finally wrests her hand free from your control. She knows that another small part of her has died because she has spent another evening in your company. She knows that 2007 will be the year she either kills you or kills herself. And as soon as she emerges from the depression you have plunged her into she will make that decision.

So, you’ve just gotta ask yourself one question: do I feel lucky?

Well, do you?

Punk?

Aerial Telly wishes his readers a happy and prosperous 2007