Uh?

The phone rang at 7 o'clock this evening. I thought it would be
someone trying to sell something as only my family call me on the
landline and they wouldn't call at that time.
So I picked it up, ready to wind up some poor guy called John
speaking pidgin English on a terrible line.

"Can I speak to Raingod?"

A perfectly English voice, slightly familiar. "Who is it?"

"David!"

Taking time to figure out who it was, I just stayed silent for a few
seconds. Then I said "Speaking", very slowly.

"Hello, long time no hear, how are you, still with your Dutch bloke?
How's work, and your family, and nasty weather isn't it!"
It was the flood of words more than the voice that jogged my memory.
The voice was the kind that you'd rather forget, you see.

Anyway, I met David about a year ago, he's a cabbie in North London
and I stopped talking to him when I asked him what the cheapest fare
he could quote me to Stansted was and he replied: "Well, it
depends... it could be free for a blow job". Now, apart from the fact
that my blow jobs aren't that cheap, I am also pretty selective about
who gets them and the one time I had occasion to meet his cock up
close it wasn't that inspiring.

Tonight he was obviously fishing for a date, which I tried to decline
citing prior arrangements (washing hair etc...), but he wasn't
getting the hint so in the end I told him straight that I wasn't
overly keen.
He said "Oh, I see... well, I'll call you at the weekend so you can
think about it".

No, really...