It’s time to scotch a rumour, now that we’re safely ensconced inside a new year and you’re vaguely listening again. And, unlike the usual ephemera that does the rounds on the social (only to rapidly disappear up its own euphemism), this one concerns yours truly and the highly improbable premise that things have taken a turn for the better in my private life. Worse still, that it may involve a certain Jenny Vegas, who has been in my employ for a few months now and, to be perfectly honest, really not my type. This kind of hearsay is not only unhelpful, but also deeply unprofessional; to the point where I had to make an awkward call to Miss Vegas in person and make an complete tit of myself:
Me: Jenny, can you talk?
Vegas: That you, Dougie?
Me: Er…no. It’s Idle Eye. From the Broken Biscuits shows.
Vegas: Aw, hiya! Did ya have a fab Chrimbo?
Me: Yes, thank you. It was most pleasant.
Vegas: What you doing calling mi in’t middle of t’night?
Me: It’s 10.15, Jenny…AM. And there’s something urgent I need to run past you.
Vegas: Is it Hollyoaks?
Me: No, not exactly. It’s a bit more delicate than that.
Vegas: Gi us a clue then. An don’t tek all day.
Me: I’ll come straight to the point. There are certain, how shall we say, insinuations flying about at the moment about you and me. Have you heard anything?
Vegas: In…sin…yer wha?
Me: Insinuations. People are talking.
Me: Look, this isn’t easy for me. But the word on the street is that we’re somehow…entwined.
Vegas: I only ‘ad a few Lambrinis…an’ a whiskey chaser. I were holdin’ back!
Me: We’re not talking alcohol, Jenny. This is the hard stuff.
Vegas: I don’t do that neither. Not since rehab.
Me: Ok, I’ll spell it out. They’re saying you and I are a couple. Romantically. As in going out together. And you have my full…
Vegas: Whose seyin’ that?
Me: No one in particular. But you know how the rumour mill works.
Vegas: Yew…an mesen?
Me: That’s about the sum of it.
Vegas: Are yer fookin ‘avin a laff?
Me: Deadly serious, I’m afraid.
Vegas: Well, Mr Eye! Altho’ I am a woman of great bewtay, talent an intelligence, not to mention a consummated professional, I don’ av time for owt like tha. An even if I did, I do have mi reputat…repit…image to think abaht, yer naw.
Me: If it’s any conciliation, it was nothing to do with me.
Vegas: That’s right, never is wi you blorks. Nah piss off, I’m busy…
And that was that. Whilst I’m no stranger to the odd rebuke, this was one of the oddest yet; particularly as I shall be working with Miss Vegas for the foreseeable future. But if you ask me, the lady protests too much. They usually do, the little minxes…