BINGO BEANBAG'S BIG DAY OUT

Well, he's genuinely lovely, Bingo. I mean that. We all forget stuff, don't we? Keys, phones, birthdays, appointments. Perfectly normal.

But a drummer forgetting his drumsticks? Come on, Bingo!

Anyway, there was this night down the pub. I was going through a bit of a rough patch with this lad I'd been seeing. We'll call him Tiny Tim. And before anyone starts, the name didn't come from ... well, you know.

Actually, never mind.

So, things weren't going particularly well between me and Tim. I'd been thinking about ending it for a while, but you know what it's like. Should I? Shouldn't I? Am I being unreasonable? Maybe it'll get better. All that stuff.

I was talking to Bingo about it because, honestly, he's such a good listener. He really is. He might forget what day it is or where he's supposed to be, but when you need somebody to talk to, he's there. He doesn't judge you. He just listens.

And that's what I needed. Somebody to listen.

I specifically told him I hadn't made my mind up yet, and whatever happened, I wanted to be the one to talk to Tim.

Anyway, we'd been there a while, had a few drinks, perhaps a few too many, as you do. Bingo went off to the bar to get another round.

And who should walk in?

Fucking Tiny Tim.

I saw him coming towards me and thought, oh God, here we go. He looked really nervous, which was unusual for him. Normally you couldn't shut him up.

So I'm sitting there, expecting him to pull up a chair and have a chat. But he doesn't sit down. Just stands there, looking down at me.

And then he says, "You can't finish with me because I'm finishing with you, Frankie."

Turns round.

Walks out.

Well!

I'm sitting there thinking, what the actual fuck just happened?

Turns out Bingo had bumped into him on the way back from the bar and told him I was thinking about breaking up with him.

I'd specifically told Bingo not to say anything!

Apparently, things had got a bit shouty. Tim had started getting all worked up and butching up to Bingo.

Big mistake.

Bingo might be a bit chaotic, but he's not somebody you're going to frighten by puffing your chest out in a pub.

Anyway, I was furious. Absolutely furious. Not just with Tim, but with Bingo too. I'd trusted him, and he'd gone and opened his bloody mouth.

To be fair, he knew he'd messed up. He apologised. More than once.

And then he said something that really annoyed me at the time.

"He's just a stoner, Frankie. Let the fucker go."

I mean, charming!

But you know what? He wasn't entirely wrong.

I was upset for a couple of weeks. I won't pretend I wasn't. And I still think Bingo should have kept his mouth shut.

But I got over Tim eventually.

And Bingo? Well, I forgave him too. You can't stay angry with somebody like Bingo for very long. Particularly when he's looking at you with those big apologetic eyes.

Although I did learn one very important lesson from the whole experience.

Always bring a spare pair of drumsticks to rehearsals.

Just in case.

ZESTY FOREVER!