Free Girls, Guilty but Somehow Glorious by Sue Limb

graceful gesture indicating our fabulous success.
    ‘Maybe . . . you need a life coach yourself?’ suggested Matthew. He had made a joke, but without showing any signs whatever of amusement. I laughed generously, while realising that deep down in my tummy, more trouble was brewing.
    ‘You’re so right!’ I said. ‘Oh – I forgot – we usually interview people to music. It creates an ambulance, you know.’ I went over to Chloe’s CD player. ‘Ambience, I mean.’ I was so flustered, I’d need a goddam ambulance if this went on much longer.
    I selected a Beethoven CD, inserted it, and pressed PLAY. Beethoven was classy – classic, even, and he was loud. He would cover any unfortunate sounds I might be forced to make. I could always have a coughing fit as well, just to be on the safe side.
    But what was this? This was not Beethoven. Literally the worst song in history burst out: ‘ I’m horny, I’m horny horny horny! ’ Matthew looked startled. Chloe entered the room. She hadn’t done a very good job of repairing her eye make-up. She looked as if she’d been crying.
    ‘Zoe!’ she frowned. ‘What’s this?’
    It just kept on blasting out. ‘ I’m horny, I’m horny horny horny! ’
    ‘It was in the Beethoven case!’ I snapped. ‘I wanted to play some Beethoven to create ambience!’ I was also really annoyed with her for calling me Zoe when she knew perfectly well I was Squeaky Jane.
    ‘Switch it off! Switch it off!’ yelled Chloe, running to the CD player. In her haste she knocked into a framed photo of their dog, Geraint. It flew through the air and smashed into the wall. The glass broke.
    Chloe screamed. She turned off the Horny song. There was a sudden silence, in which I farted.
    Then Matthew’s phone suddenly started to ring. It was the Crazy Frog – I felt his ringtone let him down really. So trashy, and so last season. However, I was hardly in a position to look down on Matthew style-wise. I had just farted in his face, and as he answered his phone, I ran out into the garden and farted three more times.
    ‘Good afternoon!’ came a man’s voice behind me. I turned round. Chloe’s neighbour was clipping his hedge and staring disapprovingly at me over his glasses.
    ‘Good afternoon!’ I cried. Then I ran indoors. Matthew was on the phone. He had walked over to the window and was staring out into the garden where I’d just been. I glanced hopelessly at Chloe, who was picking up pieces of glass.
    I bent down to help her, and farted again. This was the end. I was either going to burst into tears or die laughing. I leapt up, ran upstairs and locked myself in Chloe’s bathroom. I turned on all the taps, to make as much noise as possible, wrapped a towel round my head, and howled.
    A couple of minutes later, when my panic attack was finished and my body felt nice and quiet again, I turned off the taps. I heard the front door slam shut. He must have gone! I waited. I heard Chloe coming upstairs.
    ‘Zoe!’ she shouted. ‘It’s OK! He’s gone! Are you all right?’
    I opened the bathroom door. ‘What a complete and utter nightmare,’ I said. Now he’d gone, the urge to laugh had somehow disappeared.
    ‘His mum rang,’ said Chloe. ‘There was some crisis at home, so he had to go. I said we’d be in touch.’
    ‘Poor Matthew,’ I said. ‘He really was trying to have a job interview, and all we could do was fart at him, play obscene music and throw the ornaments about.’
    ‘I thought he was quite nice, really. In a way,’ Chloe said. ‘I mean, in casual clothes, and you know, if you could get him to loosen up a little . . .’ She looked thoughtful.
    ‘Well, thank God he’s gone,’ I sighed. ‘Now we can chill out and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Let’s watch that new Keanu Reeves DVD.’ Then suddenly a terrible thought struck me. ‘Oh noooo!’ I wailed.
    Chloe looked alarmed.
    ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What? What?’
    ‘The nightmare’s not over,’ I