“What are you doing?”
“Admiring the Speed Triple RR.”
“No, I mean in general. What are you like fucking doing?”
“I’m on holidays.”
“How can you be on holidays? You don’t actually have a job.”
“I do so have a job.”
“Yelling at people on the Internet is not a job. Riding motorcycles is not a job. Going to drink beer with your mates in small country towns is not a job.”
“Is too so.”
“Your job, if I really put some thought into it, is to write interesting and engaging articles for people who give you money. There has been perilous little of that going on of late. But there’s been an awful lot of Korean police drama on my TV.”
“Have you seen Bad Guys Vice City? It’s fucken epic! These bad guys beat cops with baseball bats, and the cops beat the bad guys with pipes and kung fu. And they fight for ages and no-one goes to hospital. I hit a bloke with a baseball bat once and he instantly stopped wanting to fight anymore. But these Koreans can take a baseball-batting like motherfuckers and keep on banging. Amazing.”
“Get the fuck out of the garage.”
“OK.”
“And no, do not move onto the lounge.”
“You’re nasty.”
“Get the fuck in front of that keyboard and start tapping.”
“Look, I will…I just need a moment to collect my thoughts and channel my creativity, and…”
“And stop talking shit. You can write underwater. Since when did you need motivation of any kind? Are you even my fucken husband? Fuck this channelling horseshit. You wanna eat? You need to write.”
“Look, you can’t just turn that tap on at will.”
“The fuck you can’t. You’re not a tap. You’re a machine. You’ve been stalling your fourth book now for months, and making all sorts of bullshit excuses.”
“They have been superb excuses.”
“Really? Saying ‘I’m on it’ and then going back to watching Korean actors kick each other off buildings is not an excuse. Transfer your arse from the couch to the chair in your office – and not via a bike seat. Straight to the chair.”
“I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“I don’t give a shit. Your mind can only ever be on one thing. And that is making sure I’m not displeased. When you’re not working, I’m displeased. See how this goes?”
“But your dad’s been unwell.”
“And? You don’t even like him.”
“I’ve come around. He’s bought me lunch a few times. He’s not a bad bloke.”
“See? You’re doing it again. You’re making up excuses for being a lazy prick. My father has nothing to do with you not writing.”
“You know the printer has died.”
“Go and buy another one.”
“OMFG! Do you even know what kind of nightmare that is? Just buying one is a catastrophe. Never mind trying to get the thing hooked up to my computer.”
“Stop. If you don’t stop, I will cut you. And you know I will.”
“Is this like a Johnny Depp Amber Heard scenario?”
“You know perfectly well I’m nothing like that horrible bitch. And you’re nothing like that mincing dickhead. You’re just being a lazy fuck, and I’m not having it. Get the fuck back onto your computer and create. Do it now.”
“Yes, dear.”
“You fucken ‘Yes Dear’ me one more fucking time and see what happens.”
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