It was 11th December, 1992. Carolyn had lured me into an intimate, dimly-lit bar and had plied me with drinks all evening. "Drink up," she cooed, as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth: "it's Christmas!"
Little did I know what was really on her mind.
My senses had been numbed by the alcohol. With hindsight, I suspect she might have spiked my drink. How on earth could I have seen what was coming?
The music was playing too loudly for normal conversation. Carolyn turned towards me, as if to shout something into my ear. Like a fool, I leant towards her to make her task easier.
Then I felt it: something warm and wet had slipped its way into my right lug-hole.
WHAT ON EARTH WAS SHE PLAYING AT, THE BRAZEN HUSSY?
WHAT AM I - A PIECE OF MEAT?