Tonight I'm playing football at 8 until 10 - then the plan was to meet Woops and take him on a mindbending tour of Lisbon's fleshpots (before, I drove home after two beers). But, get this, he's just cancelled on me on his own fucking birthday. Re-arranged it until tomorrow. Weak.
There is actually a grain of truth in that in that Liza is (or was) meeting us both with a load of girls she knows from her homeland who are on holiday here. I dunno precisely how many or how beautiful they are though.
He told me he was going to spend the night with the five most beautiful women from Kalingrad to Vladivostok and that he was, if I can quote from his email "garunteed to be having s-e-x all night till the break of dawn mate. Happy birthday to me"