The Clinching Lines
"She is topping up your engine oil for the cross-country coming up. Your RPM is hitting a new high. To wait any longer would be to lose prime time.... She picks up a Bugatti’s momentum. You want her more at a Volkswagen’s steady trot. Squeeze the maximum mileage out of your gallon of gas. But she’s eating up the road with all cylinders blazing."
Does a used condom float or sink in a tumbler of water? Would the telephone exchange blow up if all users dialled 100 in an orgy of synchronised calling? Should the winner of the London Literary Review’s ‘bad’ sex award say ‘thanks’ or ‘f... off’ when congratulated for winning it? These are ponderous queries with no smooth answers.
My own response was rather shaky and lame. This is how it went:
"I have been disoriented for the past few days ever since an e-mail landed up in my inbox informing me that I had been...