( The scene:
Sarissa, with what looks like twisted up kitchen roll shoved up each nostril, the paper bloody. Her nose is puffy, bruised, the skin across the bridge of it and around her eyes looking almost purple, but it hasn’t bowed to either side.
Underneath said tragedy, Sarissa’s mouth is tugged in a wide smile. )
Fuckin’ oath, mates. My sister clocked me good. Can you see this?
( The camera is waved around, to get different angles of her poor nose. ) Bloody legend. I was worried she’d be useless at self-defence, but I take back everything. And she’s driving me to A n’ E.
( She’s in a car, by the way. A nice one. The seats are a deep red leather, and in the driver's seat but considerably less jovial is Sarah. She turns the camera to actually get a shot of Sarah for a couple of seconds before twisting the camera away again. )
It was an accident, we’re good and golden. Lesson learned, but, don’t try to tickle attack Saroula when she’s groggy.
( A sniff, and she makes a little “ow” sort of face that is more comical than sincere. )
Anyway, just wanted to say we’re gonna have a big fuck off barbie at ours, soon. Last part of the summer— or uh, first part of the autumn? And if you happen to also have a homicidal ex-boyfriend who has been ported out for more than a month, then you get to receive a special prize. Like, I dunno. You can take home the bouncy castle, or something. Everyone’s invited, unless I don’t like you, but if you ain’t sure and you got a seal of approval from one of the girls, then you’re good. But everyone bring some food or something, ‘cause I ain’t cooking endless bloody mountains of food when I don’t know how many people are turning up. For one, I'm cheap, and for two, I'm lazy.
( Another little sniff, and Sarissa looks across at Sarah. Dramatically: ) Do you reckon I can still get away with serenadin’ myself in the mirror? You’re beeeeautiful—
( That might just be Sarah’s hand reaching over to try and knock Sarissa’s device out of her hand. )
No, Sarah, you broke my nose, you get to listen to me sing James bloody Blunt, that’s the rules. Maybe Snow Patrol, okay, or Shania, that’s my compromise.