My phone rings.
It is a number I do not recognise, though this in itself is not that unusual as so many of my friends have recently changed jobs and mobile numbers.
“Hello?” I answer, wondering which mate has made a New Year career change necessitating a new phone.
“Heeeeeyyy!” slurs the person at the other end.
It is 6:30pm on Friday, so they have done extremely well to get so pissed so quickly. I am quietly impressed and also very jealous because I am only nine days into Sober January. Sobriety is massively over-rated.
“Hello?” I repeat, in the hope of further identity clues.
“Heeeeyyyyy, how’s it goin’?” they continue, with distant bar noises distorting their voice.
“Who is this?” I ask, quickly tiring of our game of Guess The Inebriate.
“It’s your NEMESIS!”
This piqued my interest. Not in the way you might imagine, as I have lots of nemeses. My ears were not bleeding, so it was unlikely to be James Blunt, but there were numerous others it could be.
“Look, you’re going to have to narrow it down for me.”
“It’s your nemesis! Just checking in with you.”
“I know, you said that bit. I have more than one nemesis though, so could you perhaps add a name to your description?”
“It’s me. Spuggy!”
“Aye, Spuggy. Your NEMESIS!”
“I don’t have a nemesis called Spuggy. Not that I know of anyway.”
“Yes you do. It’s me!”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t.”
“Come on Pete, you know it’s me, Spuggy!”
“My name’s not Pete.”
“Fuck off Pete! I know it’s you.”
“I’m not Pete.”
“Why are you on Pete’s phone then.”
“I really don’t know how to answer that. Except to say that this isn’t Pete’s phone.”
“Shut up. Look, are you coming to the pub or what?”
“Look, I’m not P….. err….OK, but I must warn you. I’ve been doing some thinking and with it being the New Year and all, I’ve decided to come out as gay.”
“We can talk about it over a drink. Get me a babycham. See you in ten.”
With that I hung up. I like to think that Spuggy and Pete have since had a very strange conversation about their earlier phone call. Anyway, as a nemesis, he was pretty shit.