In Edinburgh in August (and presumably through the rest of the year, but this can’t be verified), there are many women. And many drinks. And sometimes the opportunity to build a highway to one or more of the women with the asphalt of drink. And charm. And drink.

But here’s the thing. If you conjure a moment via drink (and charm…and drink) with one who’d not ordinarily love you, you may find her waking words — upon seeing you through the cold gauze of truth — will be “Crikey.” (That’s only one word, I know. But it has the power of two.)

If so, please don’t go to see her show the next day, even if you (gallantly and surreptitiously) have an earring to return to her.

It will only help create the many uncomfortable encounters yet to come.

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