One day, Jenny casually mentioned that she'd befriended a Pierrot. At first, I just laughed it off - I didn't know why she'd want to waste her time with some fucking weepy clown, and guessed she'd soon get bored. But, as time went by, she began to hang around with him more and more. We'd meet up for a drink and she'd spend half an hour telling me about the Pierrot's problems! I tried to play it cool, but it was getting under my skin.
"He sounds like a right wanker, no wonder he got dumped!" I laughed.
"You're so cruel, Dave," Jenny snapped. "He's a really nice person, he just needs a lot of sympathy and support!"
Our evenings would end in an argument and a silent bus ride back home. The Pierrot was driving me round the bend. Things came to a head in May, when I scored two tickets to go and see Michael Jackson, on the evening of my birthday. I called Jenny at her workplace to tell her the good news, but her supervisor said she'd called in sick. When I got home, I excitedly flashed her the tickets.
"Oh," she said. "Dave, I'm sorry, I can't make that night - the Pierrot's having a party- he invited me and I promised..."
"Fuck's sake!" I thundered. "It's Michael Jackson's farewell tour! How can you miss THIS for some pyjama-wearing poof and a few camparis?"
"Don't call him that!" Jenny raged. "And anyway, why did you bother buying a ticket for me? You know I don't like Michael Jackson"
"Well, I don't like The Business, but I went all the way to fucking Kent to see them with you!" I countered. "Anyway, where were you today? I rang your workplace and they said you were off sick! You were...you were seeing the Pierrot again, weren't you?"
"So what if I was?" Jenny yelled. "He was feeling down, we went to Hyde Park for a walk and a chat."
"That bastard's always feeling down!" I screamed. "There's fucking people getting gunned down in Iran, and he just simpers about in make up, feeling sorry for himself!"
"I hate you!" she roared, grabbing her Harrington and storming out.
I was determined to sort this once and for all. Jenny'd left her mobile on the sofa, so I picked it up and flicked through it. 189 messages from the Pierrot! "THANK U 4 BEING A FRIEND XX" read one, with a picture of a teddy bear's head. I couldn't believe my skinhead girlfriend was texting this loser!
I hit 'REPLY' and typed in "HI, ITS JENNY. MEET ME ROUND MINE IN 30 MINS". Shit, I was out of control! But I had to see the bastard in the flesh and warn him off her! To my disgust, he texted back almost immediately - "ON MY WAY, CANT WAIT XX :-)". I went into the kitchen and pulled a knife from the cupboard. I was gonna give the cunt something to REALLY cry about!
20 minutes later - the bell rang! I flung open the door, grabbed the Pierrot by the throat and dragged him inside. He screeched and burst into tears as I booted him in the ribs and up the arse, as he tried to curl up in a ball on the floor. I then hauled him to his feet, punched his cap off and slammed his face into the wall. He let out a volley of sobs as blood gushed from his broken nose. I kneed him in the bollocks, waving the knife in his face, shouting: "You EVER come near...."
Suddenly - the front door swung open - Jenny had returned! "What the - JESUS CHRIST! DAVE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO? LEAVE HIM ALONE!" She head-butted me and ran over to fondle the Pierrot, who was crying his eyes out and bleeding heavily all over his costume. "J-Jenny...I th-thought you wanted to thee me!" he bawled through a gobful of bloody snot, as she cradled his head and shot me a look of pure contempt.
"You sick wanker!" she snarled. "You don't know what you've gone and done!"
"Fuck it!" I howled. "I've seen your phone! 189 fucking messages! Texting each other night and day! Come on, how long have you been screwing each other! HOW LONG? You cheating bitch! Have you fucked him in our bed?? How could you do this to ME?"
Jenny suddenly calmed down, and fixed me with a frosty glare, as the Pierrot continued to sob and shudder in her arms. "Take a look at his face," she ordered, dabbing away some of the blood with a Fred Perry handkerchief. I did a double take and gasped...it couldn't be...it couldn't...
...he looked just like...
"I know how much you love Michael Jackson," she hissed. "He's been really down recently and he just needed a mate, someone to talk to, especially with his marathon farewell tour coming up! So, when I told him you were a massive fan, he agreed to arrange a special backstage party before the gig, as a surprise for your birthday! You were meant to offer your spare ticket to my mate Liz and go with her - only to find me and Michael waiting for you at the venue, with several bottles of champagne!"
"Oh my God," I groaned, feeling a migraine coming on. "What have I done?"
"And check out the plastic bag behind the sofa!" she fumed. I went into the living room, located the bag and peeked inside. It was my entire collection of Michael Jackson LPs - each one signed by Jacko himself, with a cheery dedication to "MY MAIN MAN - DAVE!" "I got Michael to sign them for you today, when we met in Hyde Park," she snorted. "Now I realise I shouldn't have bothered!"
"Please," I whimpered.
"Oh, fuck off," she snapped. "We're over. I don't wanna be with some jealous, psychotic nut! Have a nice life." And then she and Michael left.
A month later, Michael flew to LA to rehearse for his tour, where, unfortunately, he had a heart attack and died. So, I lost both Jenny AND my only chance of seeing the King of Pop perform live. Still, I've learned a valuable lesson from all of this. Don't always make assumptions about other people, or jump to conclusions about why they're doing things - the truth may just surprise you.