tampons

Twenty Benson & Hedges, chewing gum and a packet of tmm-pmms…

The shop assistant squints. “What?” Aidan whispers it again. “A packet of tampons!” Read the rest of this article here.

YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR PROBLEM IS?

Sara has a low opinion of Irish men. But there’s one for whom she reserves particular scorn. One prototypical idiot she regards as even more clueless than the herd. “Tell me Eooo-wen”, she purrs in that annoying Teutonic drone of hers. “What are you getting your girlfriend for Christmas?”

“Binliners, perhaps? Tampons?”

She shrieks with laughter. I don’t bother lying.

“To be honest, I doubt we’ll even be together by Christmas.” Read the rest of this entry »

Published: Evening Herald, February 2010

THE MARKET BAR

“I’m Going to Die…. And I Can’t Wait!” is the dubious headline on this week’s edition of Take a Break magazine. To be honest, I kinda understand how the woman feels. It’s Thursday evening. And I’ve been browsing the magazine rack in Spar for what seems like hours now. What in the hell is Aidan doing?

He’s at the counter negotiating a delicate purchase is what. “I’ll have twenty Benson & Hedges,” he tells the young shop assistant, “a pack of chewing gum and…” (He lowers his voice conspiratorially.) “A packet of tmm-mms.” The shop assistant squints. “A what?” Aidan whispers it again. “A packet of tampons.” Read the rest of this entry »