– You have a funny way of expressing yourself, Philip.
– Well, thanks Harvi, nice of you to notice.
– It wasn’t a compliment . . . why can’t you just say what you bloody well mean and stop being so . . . so . . . well, so rhetorical!
– Probably the same reason you wear such loud shirts. Not really necessary, is it?
– Different thing entirely. My shirts are bright, colourful, stylish . . . a lot like me, in fact. I don’t go around confusing people. When you write nobody knows what you’re on about, Philip. Why can’t you take anything seriously?
– But your shirts aren’t exactly practical, are they Harvi? They cost a packet, they’re all show, and they don’t cope with the climate that well . . . if we are talking utilitarian then your shirts can’t be taken seriously either.
– But this is clothes. Everybody understands fashion. It’s meant to be self expression. You, on the other hand, are just . . . writing.
– Can’t that be fun too?
– Not if you want to get your point across. Make yourself clear. Communicate. Don’t you want to communicate?
– Let me think . . . erm, no . . . what’s the point I’m supposed to get across? Why do I have to “communicate?” I’m not clear.
– Isn’t that what people expect?
– Not sure . . . what do people expect from writing? . . . who wrote the rules?
– Don’t be a dick, you know what I’m on about. You go to a play, you write a review. You go see some art in a gallery, you write a review. You eat one of my prize winning, Oscar nominated, Michelin starred, Booker judge bribing, world famous samosas, you write a review . . . you get this stuff for nothing, you have a responsibility. Start writing responsibly.
– Isn’t it more fun to surprise people? Surely I can leave reviewing to the professionals . . . they get paid for it! I just want to have a lark . . . though I wouldn’t object to getting paid. Even in samosas . . .
– I hate surprises! . . . that thing you did yesterday, the OHCRAP nonsense . . . was there any need? . . . Couldn’t you just have written something about the event? . . . I was at the event, I loved it! I was there when you posted your twaddle yesterday . . . wasn’t so keen.
– Fine. Sorry. Won’t do it again . . . not in your company at least.
– Seriously, Philip . . . stop playing around . . . just be straight.
– Straight to the point . . . straight laced . . . straight faced . . . straight up . . . straight, no chaser . . .straight to hell . . .
– Stop! . . . just . . . say . . . what . . . you . . . mean . . . it’s simple. How hard can that be? Isn’t that what you are meant to be doing anyway, reflecting what’s going on in Leeds? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be writing about?
– You’re just being mean about me being meant to be meaningful . . .
– You just can’t help yourself, can you?
– No, Harvi, I can’t. Hell, look . . . I’ll never get to build a walnut shell boat on Briggate, or collide a couple of brass bands on Kirkgate, or direct a zombie dance in the Dark Arches . . .
– Which is probably a good thing!
– Yes, maybe . . . but I have an imagination and I don’t see why I have to can it when I write my stuff on here. Why can’t this be art too? . . .
– Pretentious bastard!
– What’s wrong with pretension? I’m all for pretending. We should pretend better I think. Be world class pretenders.
– Hmm, I’m off to the bar where I shall pretend to buy you a drink . . .
– You’re being mean again. Mine’s whatever you’re having. A double. Ice would be nice, this heat is killing me.
– Then can we stop talking for a bit . . . it’s worth buying the drinks just to shut you up.