1) Sex? Answer: thanks, but no. 2) Age? Answer: thirty but look much younger. 3) Occupation address? Answer: anywhere. 4) Occupational position? Answer: standing, but occasionally sitting down. 5) Do you have a heart problem? Answer: probably will in a minute. 6) Do you suffer from breathlessness during exercise? Answer: sometimes during sex, but that was a long time ago. 7) Do you suffer from palpitations or unusual heart flutters? Answer: only when I think about someone special. 8) Do you have any back problems? Answer: only when I did a handstand when I was very drunk. 9) Are you allergic to anything? Answer: men who cheat. 10) Have you had any operations? Answer: I think I had a lobotomy once, but I can’t remember. 11) Do you enjoy a healthy eating programme? Answer: yes, started an hour ago. 12) Have you suffered from any illnesses? Answer: hangovers. 13) Do you suffer from any other problems? Answer: accidents frequently happen around me.

‘Fourteen days,’ said Ayshe. ‘That’s all it takes to change your life for the better.’ ‘You are joking, right?’ I arched an eyebrow. ‘Nobody can change their life in fourteen days.’ ‘That’s not what it says in here.’ Ayshe held up the magazine she’d been flicking through, her finger underlining one of the articles. ‘“Orgasms or Chocolate? What do women really want?”’ I read the headline aloud. ‘What?’ Ayshe looked at the magazine and adjusted her finger. ‘Not that. This. “Turn Your Life Around. The Simple Fourteen Day Plan Anyone Can Do”.’ ‘That’s ridiculous.’ Tucking my legs underneath me on the sofa, I picked at my frayed jogging bottoms. ‘No, what’s ridiculous is you still moping about over Justin. It’s been six months since you split up with him. You need to move on with your life.’ She rose from her chair and flounced down next to me, resting her arm on my knees. I wriggled away from her. ‘I’m having another iced coffee; want one?’ ‘It’s too cold for iced coffee. It’s the middle of November for God’s sake,’ she called out as I clattered around in the kitchen. ‘Anyway, I thought you’d promised to cut down on your caffeine intake.’ When I returned, I sank down onto the sofa. ‘I still haven’t managed to get a plumber out to fix the dishwasher. Either they don’t turn up when they say they will, or they won’t come out for anything less than a total bathroom refurb.’ Ayshe watched me in silence. I sat it out for a while, her steady gaze drilling into me. ‘What?’ ‘Trying to change the subject isn’t going to work. You can’t avoid this much longer.’ ‘I’m not, it’s true. You can never get hold of a plumber these–’ She clamped her hand over my mouth. ‘You need to go out and do things – and don’t give me that rubbish about you’ll never meet another man – he was the right one – he was the love of your life. I know four years together is a long time, but everybody always says that when they split up with people. You will get over him, but not if you keep refusing to move on with your life.’ She pushed me on the leg. I wasn’t expecting the jolt and spilt my coffee all down my attractive jogging bottoms. My thoughts drifted back to the time I’d discovered a size sixteen Agent Provocateur thong stuffed into the pocket of Justin’s best work trousers during the usual laundry run. I was pretty sure his company hadn’t suddenly changed their dress-code. I mean, smart trousers, shirt, and thong, wouldn’t sound too good in the staff handbook. I was also sure he couldn’t have picked it up innocently – as he’d told me – because he needed to dust the photocopier and thought it was a rag. And I knew it wasn’t mine because I’d never really fancied a piece of dental floss chafing my bits and bobs.

Dick Head and Goodbody had deadly straight faces. ‘Do go on. This is thoroughly enlightening,’ Goodbody said in a voice that clearly meant it wasn’t at all. ‘Well, that was when I noticed that someone had drawn a moustache and beard on the picture of the woman on the front of the box.’ I narrowed my eyes at Kalem, who chuckled under his breath, remembering. ‘Anyway, I was really embarrassed and had to pretend that it must have been like that in the shop when I’d bought it.’ ‘Is there a point to this?’ Goodbody asked, glancing at his watch. ‘I wanted to get Kalem back, and I knew he was going to the building society a few days later to get some money out, and he needed to take some ID. He can never find his driving licence, so he always takes his passport,’ I paused. ‘Because I’m a photographer, obviously I’ve got loads of old photos lying around, so I thought it would be really funny to pay him back for all the practical jokes he plays on me. I found this photo, cut it out, then stuck it over his passport photo with removable adhesive and put it back in the drawer. Then, of course, I forgot all about it.’ I tried to swallow, but my throat felt like I’d swallowed a Brillo Pad. ‘Until now.’ I tucked my hair behind my ears with shaky hands. Kalem coughed. ‘Actually, I managed to find my driving licence and took that to the building society instead.’ I cast him a sheepish look. ‘Yes, I realize that now.’ ‘You see! This is all perfectly innocent,’ Kalem said to Dick Head and Goodbody. ‘Can we go now?’ ‘Not yet. Are you a Muslim too?’ Goodbody asked me. ‘No, I’m not a Muslim,’ I said. A confused glance passed between Dick Head and Goodbody. ‘Well you certainly look like one. Can you please explain why you’re wearing a burka if you’re not Muslim,’ Goodbody asked me. I glanced down at the floor length, head-to-toe black burka that I’d almost forgotten I was wearing. Even if the rest of the stuff sounded slightly odd, there was at least a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. ‘Well, there’s an ancient tradition with Turkish Cypriot families. When a new bride-to-be arrives in North Cyprus to get married, it’s good luck for her to be wearing a burka, isn’t it?’ I glanced at Kalem, willing him to explain this peculiar custom further. Instead, he kind of gave me a small shake of his head, and his jaw dropped. Oh, God. I recognized that look. There was no such custom. This was another one of his wind-Helen-up practical jokes. If they could’ve seen my face, which of course they couldn’t because I only had a two inch rectangular slit for my eyes, they would’ve seen it completely drain of colour. Luckily, they accepted this explanation, and neither of the customs officers seemed to notice that my eyelids had just pinged open in surprise or that Kalem’s face had turned a scorching-hot shade of pink. Dick Head picked at the adhesive on Kalem’s passport photo and pulled it off, examining the official picture of Kalem underneath. ‘What do you think?’ He handed the passport to Goodbody. ‘Mmm.’ Goodbody scrutinized it. ‘It looks legitimate.’ He sounded disappointed. ‘That’s a shame,’ Dick Head huffed and turned to Officer Goodbody, frowning. ‘Seems like we’ll miss out on our CAT bonus.’

‘Ha-ha.’ I let out a nervous laugh. Officer Head gave me a narrow-eyed stare, then turned back to Kalem. ‘Is that your real name?’ ‘Er…excuse me. Is that a trick question? It’s obvious what his name is. It’s in his passport,’ I said, not wanting to state the obvious, but someone had to do it. Oh, I get it now. It must be a dream. Yes, that was it. Recently, I'd been having a few of those pre-wedding jittery dreams – well, more like nightmares, actually – where I turned up at the venue in front of all our guests, and my wedding dress had suddenly turned see-through. And, even worse, I'd somehow decided to have my bikini area waxed into the shape of a dartboard, complete with bullseye. This was just one of those nightmares, that was all. I leaped off the chair. ‘Come on Kalem, let’s go.’ ‘You can’t go until I say you can go,’ Officer Head insisted. ‘I can do whatever I want. It’s my dream,’ I said to him with a haughty gleam in my eye. ‘SIT DOWN,’ he shouted back at me. I heard a loud ringing in my ear. Surely you didn’t hear ear-ringing in a dream? I pinched myself. Ow! Shit. I was still awake. I slumped back in the chair. Uh-oh. This was for real. The door swung open and another customs official with a toilet brush crew cut walked in. ‘Richard,’ the second officer acknowledged his colleague with a tilt of his head and then turned to us. ‘I’m officer Goodbody.’ He sat down, and I heard a noise like a whoopee cushion exploding. I couldn’t tell if it was him or the chair, though. ‘Let’s start again, shall we?’ Officer Head leaned forward. ‘Is that your realname?’ Kalem swallowed. ‘Of course it’s my real name.’ I looked between the customs men with suspicion. Richard Head? Was this for real? The light bulb was back on full power now. ‘Ha! I know what’s going on.’ They both raised an intrigued eyebrow and waited for me to enlighten them. ‘No one could be called Dick Head and Officer Goodbody. It sounds like something out of a bad Seventies porn movie. This is one of those TV shows, isn’t it?’ My eyes darted around the room like a maniac, looking for any signs of hidden cameras and cabling. ‘It’s like Candid Camera, or You’ve Been Punk’d, or something. Or…I know.’ I squinted at them. ‘Are you Ant and Dec in disguise? Are we going to be on their Saturday Night Takeaway show where they’re always playing practical jokes on people?’ I leaped up and leaned over the desk, so I was inches away from their faces, examining them for signs of false noses and excessive, disguising make-up. Kalem shot me a horrified look. ‘Give me your passport.’ Goodbody ignored my outburst and held his hand out to me. OK then, maybe not.

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