“They make their stand in the face of inevitable doom, at the hands of a bullying ocean or a spiteful sea, who live to erode everything they touch; all those receding picturesque coastlines? Rotting shipwrecks to a rusty stain on the seabed. Jealous because their talents don’t extend beyond making ripples in the sand...The trick is to use that bubble-wrap seaweed... Drape the sandcastle with it... very gently. Dig a little moat. The sea swaggers in, spots the seaweed and feels compelled to pop them - like we all do - and before it’s popped its last, times up. The tide pulls it away like a scolding parent, and the moat you’ve dug steals some of it as punishment.”

“If your girl offers to cook, an you ask her what she has in mind, to be considerate. But she's tired. She only wants to boil an egg, butter a piece of bread. She won't wanna admit that. And she's offered to cook, has she gotta think for you aswell. The response she's hoping for, “Put ya feet up luv,  I'm cooking." Order in. Eat out. Safe answers... If you’re stupid enough to ask for steak and chips...  If she cooks it - the steak’ll be too raw, too well-done ,depending how you don’t like it. Pans clanging, doors slamming, so you can’t pretend to ignore there’s a problem and you’ll ask, (innocent tone)“What’s wrong luv?” And the fact you gotta ask? Ignorant man person.Now you're not the guy that makes her feel good about herself anymore. And some guy comes along, his neglected female radar twitching... Someone who wouldn't normally tick enough boxes is Mr 'He'll Do'. Sized up as the bedroom act to see you off. She'll even help him mould his game plan, like she's helping blind man cross road no dog no stick. And she’ll cut short those romantic preliminaries and hoops you had to jump through just to get ya tongue in her mouth sometime soon. He's the lucky bastard in fast forward, to become the bedroom stain that proves to her your love was just as mortal as all the others after all...”