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Five go to a Bar. In the style of Enid Blyton, who is spinning in her grave

Ryan is BumblingD's best friend.  Ryan and BumblingD have been friends since big school.  BumblingD knows Ryan is kind, intelligent, and funny.  Ryan knows BumblingD needs help.  Ryan & Bumbli look, can we just call him BD, Enid?

BD & Ryan are waving goodbye to Rudy.  Rudy is BD's brother, a tall, jolly, boy with smiling eyes and important hair.  Rudy has a special job today.  He's driving the big white lorry home to its warm bed, far enough from London to make him very tired.  He will need a cup of cocoa before tucking in.  He's such a brick.  He is a very helpful boy.

The big lorry is empty. It has been unloaded.  It is as empty as BD's ex's heart. Our strong boys have carried many cardboard boxes brimming with BD's paltry world up many, many stairs. Their chatter, in between grunting, has been mainly about ducks and aunts, as far as autocorrect can tell.  But they have completed the job, so that BD didn't have to get cross and call his and Rudy's Mummy.

Ryan places the final box down on the glossy nylon carpet in the gleaming, empty bedroom. He looks up.  Ryan is a tall, fit, handsome boy.  He is married to a lady.  He is not available.  Don't @me.  Also, he is bald.  And mental.

BD is moving into a big boy's flat on his very own.  Today.  He is a little bit of a hot mess.

Ryan asks if BD would like to go to the pub.  He does this by saying, simply "Pub?" Ryan is a very bad boy.  It is barely four o'clock in the afternoon.  Time for a picnic tea; a hamper brimming with ham, (hand-carved by Anne, using a knife without supervision for the first time since the unfortunate accidental felling of the Faraway Tree,) and macaroons, and thick, yellow cream.  Time for an adventure.

BD says yes to the pub.  BD is easily led.  He also knows that Anne doesn't wash her hands NOW, as it commands on every sheet of the shiny toilet paper at boarding school.

Ryan and BD gambol down the hill towards the tube station, like spring lambs skipping towards a brutal mauling by Timmy the dog; that day George accidentally let him off the leash near Kirrin Island.  The day Uncle Quentin* said we should never speak of again.

*It's OK to mention Uncle Quentin, but Enid will never make jokes about Aunt Fanny, because #MeToo.

The boys pass a pub or two. They do not know where they are going.  This is the start of a new life.  Like butterflies, they are free.  Like butterflies, they will shortly be crushed by the meaningless cycle of existence.  But they do not know this.  They are going to have a simply marvellous jape.

They turn a corner.  "Look", cries BD.  He points towards a grotto.  It looks like somewhere the Hipster Goblins might live.  Hipster Goblins have long beards, shorter than necessary trousers and flock together to search for their missing socks.  They are not especially dangerous, but can give you a nasty graze from the iron wheels on their fixed-pedal penny farthings if they aren't paying attention.  They are easily distracted by craft beer and unwise tattoos.

BD and Ryan are brave.  They are not scared of Hipster Goblins. They are equipped.  In extremis Ryan has a key-ring pocket knife with a tool for taking a stone out of a horse's hoof, or stabbing a thin-lipped villain through the eyeball if threatened in non-equestrian territory.  Blyton villains can always be recognised by their thin lips.  Thin-lipped villain would need a deep-set eyeball, or otherwise risk a minor retina scratch.  BD has a broken nail, because moving house, and is therefore better armed against luxuriant beards and HTML5. 

They push the door open and stride in with purpose, like George on the day she broke into the dildo factory. Which is another day Uncle Quentin has threatened a thrashing for speaking about. 

The grotto is almost empty, and safe enough for our heroes.

BD and Ryan gulp Hipster Goblin juice, thirstily.  It is a pleasant grotto.  The juice has magical properties, and flows freely from the taps.  BD and Ryan are using Contactless.  Because Contactless is not real money. Everybody is happy.  Everybody likes free money from the money fairies.  Or they did until Anne cut down that bastard tree.  There is a clock, but it has stopped, pleasingly.  Time passes.

The door opens, blowing in a chilly wind from outside. Crystal snowflakes swirl into the brick interior. Only the foolish would have ventured out without a sturdy string vest.  Ryan and BD are foolish boys.  The three girls who walk in are not foolish.  They are wrapped up in woolly girl things.  This makes them as good as any boy*.  And that makes five people, in case you need my flimsy justification for the subject line.

*That's an Enid Blyton joke, if you're still with me.  If you're not, why the FUCK are you sticking with this?

A man enters rolling a barrel of beer.  Ryan leaps to get the door, like a helpful dog. Just like Timmy, before the farmer put both barrels of birdshot clean through his spleen and then took Anne hostage.  Uncle Quentin lets us talk about that one.  He never liked Anne.  She was an accident.  None of these girls looks like Anne.  One of them is blonde, and shiny.  One of them is quite famous.  One of them wears a bobble hat throughout and barely speaks.  She may have been Dobby, come to think of it, but that would be too confusing, even for me.  And Dobby is a free elf.

Enid has become distracted.  Enid doesn't do breaking the fourth wall, but even though this is my blog she made me do it.  Bad Enid.  She probably has thin lips.

Enid will return to the actual dating part of this story in part 2, here.


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