Hard Times - Revision #6 - February 25, 2008 2:43:14 PM UTC

In the old days, picking up the ladies was easy. A trader in the Golden Miles' third largest brokerage made you part of an elite. At night, the city was ours for the taking. All I had to do when I spotted my target was crack open a few bottles Dom Perignon and offer a glass to everyone around her... except her. Classic, yeah ?! If she had male companions, I made doubly sure they got some too.

Then, it's just a matter of letting her stew for a few minutes, wondering if she's got pimples or something. Then, hey, suddenly you notice her... "how could you have missed her"... offer her a glass, and you're in. Pour on the attention and the champagne. Champagne was definitely the key... it said and did everything that was needed... how could they refuse, yeah ?! You had to keep it flowing.

And when it was time, all I had to do was just slide up to her, flash my perfectly lined veneers with award winning smile to match, and say “I’ve been tested and it came back negative, but I have these anyway", and show her my box of Trojans. When you're the dogs bollocks, it's that easy, yeah ?! A reputation, biceps and a six pack, champagne, a flash of gold, women are so easy, yeah? Often, I even got away without a glove.

Then the bloody bubble burst. We all knew it had to happen eventually... just thought we'd be smart enough to see it coming and jump out at the last minute. My mate Peter... we laughed when he pulled out and went to Stockholm. His Swedish girlfriend was like the blonde ABBA bird... I'd do her any day, yeah ?! But still, Stockholm !? Know what I mean ?! S**t, I should have followed him, an got his girl to boot.

Now it's all got a lot harder.