Londoner Subjugates

“This is the part, in a perfect world, where you’d be stunned into silence by the appearance of one Thomas William Hiddleston,” I tell her, enjoying the puzzled expression on her face. “However, because I’m a twit, I left him at the airport in the wee hours of the morning for an extended period, made him come back to my apartment where Basil the Barkapotamous barked in his face because she doesn’t like him for some unknown reason and now he’s passed out cold in the backseat of the 4Runner.”

Pamela’s eyes go wide and she appears to have stopped breathing.

“Thus, not here to shock the socks off of you!” I finish, doing a ta-da motion with my hands.

Pamela stares blankly at me. It’s like I’m speaking Greek or something to her.