Misadventures in conversation (#1 in a potentially infinite series)
If I tried to list every social faux pas I made I would probably break the internet, but here are a couple of choice recent ones. The scene: a pub somewhere off Tottenham Court Road, last weekend. Went along with my friend Dave to meet some of his old uni coursemates. It was established that they were in their early 30s - although one of them was a super-trendy gay guy who despite being 31 looked about 15, and was bragging light-heartedly about how he always got asked for ID. (Although I bet he must need like 5 hours to get ready for a night out so hah! - the joke’s on him.) Another guy had brought along his new ladyfriend, with whom I’d been attempting to converse. Bear in mind that she was some kind of frustrated singer/songwriter type who was on the fringes of the music scene, and that she was going through a messy divorce process from a guy who’d apparently treated her like shit. Anyway, the above was her cue to chuck out, missile-like, that most loaded of questions - “How old do y...