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Come and meet my brother-in-law Paul, he's lovely. He's a real people person.
So James, pleasure to meet you James. Real pleasure to meet you. Heard a lot about you, James.
Really?
Zing, like it. So tell me James, what do you do for your day job. I'm asking, because I am genuinely interested.
Well, I work in a sewage treatment plant.
It's pretty low-key, but occasionally there's a blockage, which means that someone's got to physically ...
Yeah, brilliant, yeah. God, I'm so bloody fascinated, James. I'd like to glue my brain to your face.
Are you even listening to me?
That is so true.
I'm not even talking.
Me neither. God, we got so much in common. We should totally do lunch.
Oh, I see what's going on here.
What?
You think you're good with people.
Sorry?
It all makes sense, the fake mateyness, the rapey arm touching.
The way you keep using my name in a way that makes me feel oddly violated as if you've just dipped your *** in my drink.
It's called people skills.
Well, I'm sorry I have to break this to you, mate, but these people skills you seem so desperate to thrust at me,
as if I am the social equivalent of a *** doll, just make you seem weird and a bit scary.
No offense, but in a party situation you seem about as relaxed and friendly as a serial killer doing a police interview
while still wearing his last victim's skin.
Don't worry, it's totally normal.
It doesn't make you the sort of freaky long-fingernailed loner who gets arrested in Sainsbury's for stroking the bread.
Being *** with people is just a very minor disability you share with everyone who isn't Alan Carr or Top Cat.
Just accept it and move on.
Ok, well ... *** off and stand on your own then.
That's more like it.