I refilled my plastic cup with Glen’s vodka and a splash of Coke and stomped up to Diana’s bedroom. For two hours, we shouted at each other. We started very loud, then got quieter, until finally we were too pissed and tired to carry on and we made up. I told her she had abandoned me; I created a complicated metaphor about how I’d realized she’d always viewed me as Björn Again. “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?” she shouted. “Björn Again. They were the warm-up band for that Spice Girls gig we both went to. They were shit and we couldn’t wait for it to be over. I’ve realized I’ve just been your warm-up
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