So lately Basil's been talking about all these totally obscure bands and stuff and it's wrecking my head trying to figure out who they all are. "Aoiphe, I didn't realise you were into NME" he said the other day. "Yeah, I just can't wait to em, download The Crimea's new album for free. It's a musical revolution and stuff, making quality sounds more accessible" I recited. Little did he know I had my handbag sized May edition of Glamour inside the grubby music paper.

"So what's the point of that?" he asked

"Well, they're going to make a profit from touring and merchandise" piped in Mapi. That infernal Belgian! She's always out to totally wreck my buzz.

"They'll sell t-shirts!" I shouted. Basil and Mapi looked at me like I was smearing jam on my face and carried on talking about podcasts or something lame.

The next thing Fat Barry walked in. "Greetings and salutations my fine people. I trust we're rocking in the free world on this glorious day". He put his frisbee on the counter.

"Do you want a game?" I asked. Saying this was like having an outer body experience. I don't know where the words came from but I had to make the first move towards becoming his friend.

"Ex- queeze me? You play frisbee, Aoiphers?"

"I love frisbee", I lied, "and swingball".

"Swingball!" he snorted. He broke down laughing. "Swingball Bazzo, did you hear that? Hilarious."

Basil started laughing and I joined in, looking at Mapi, triumphantly.

So, whatever the joke was, I was in. We went to Stephen's Green at lunchtime to play Frisbee, leaving Mapi behind because she wasn't funny enough.

Thank goodness I'd French manicured my toes the night before as I had to go barefoot to play. I was hoping Basil would find it endearing. I jumped and dived and when I got grass stains on my white DKNY jacket I just laughed it off. I was cool, I was frisbeeing, I was hilarious, I was exhausted.

Walking back to the shop Basil got a phonecall so Barry and I got talking. He seemed to find everything I said very amusing, especially the fact that I've named my shitzu after Enrique Iglesias. He seemed quite intellectual so I said that I was thinking of going back to college at night to do a higher certloma to compliment my diplocert. He said if he had a certloma he'd see an optician. I didn't get that but laughed along with him. For all his sarcasm, I did like his hearty laugh.

We got to the shop and I realised that I had to go back to my dad's office to pick up his post as he was off sick with his back. I said goodbye and headed off.

Later that evening I got a text from Basil.

"I think Barry really likes u"...