It always worked. Not that Alice was bossy or dominant but, when it was needed, you knew that doing it the way Alice suggested was the only way. The way she raised her eyebrow or uttered the immortal phrase, “I think not!” would end any argument. One incident had passed into University legend. Alice had been at a party with some of the Rugby Club who were celebrating a hitherto unheard of event, that of drinking the Climbing Club under the table. They were on their way back to their Hall of Residence. Their choruses and erratic movement attracted the attention of Constable Barry Hughes who radioed in for a Paddy Wagon to take the revellers down to the 'nick'. The lads were corralled and invited to enjoy some alternative accommodation for the rest of the night. The ‘Lads’ had just vanquished the Climbers at drinking and, in their own eyes, they were ‘invincible’. This prompted a very unhelpful response from them concerning their recommendations for the officer's immediate travel. I mean, I could have reached down there to my elbow and pulled out five, maybe six pairs of lost sunglasses. The seventh pair was on her face. Inside a room with no windows. Her trouser legs were tucked inside her glossy black thigh-high boots. Aaaand she had a riding crop on her belt. I felt like I was getting punked and looked around for a hidden camera, except there was only the one BIG camera and it was pointed right at me and there was a big red light on it that blinked, “You’re. Fucked. You’re. Fucked.” “Do you know why you’re here?” “Yes, ma’am. It’s because I missed that episode of Sesame Street that explained the difference between four and five.” I thrust my chest forward and tipped my head to one side just a little and kittenishly smiled. Blink blink. It didn’t work. Must have been because she couldn’t see me properly through those glasses ‘cause I’m cute as a button. With one smooth motion she swung that crop off her belt and slammed it on the table. I jumped. You would.
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