This article is dedicated to a certain type of female, with hate.

"Oh hiiiii!!! How are you?! Yeah, I'm fine. How's the work going? ... Uh-huh. Listen, are you coming out tonight because it's been ages, you know? I was going to call round for you sometime. Where are we going? Well, I don't know, what do you think? NOT the seafront because, like, that's just so crowded and noisy these days, isn't it? I really hate it. I mean, I was down there last night and I just thought, "God, why do I come here?", you know?"

That's Sharon. She's a friend of mine, or rather, I'm a friend of hers, because mostly she drives me up the wall. Lots of people are Sharon's friend, and some of them even count her as one, but then they get their shit for brains from the same place she does.

"Yeah, so why don't we go see a band? You know, it's been YEARS since I've seen a band and I really love live music, you know, it's just such a buzz and lots of those bands are better than the chart stuff, that's for the masses. Rummers? Who's on? Oh no, I haven't heard of them. I saw this really fantastic band once, what was their name, "Mary Riley Experience" or something, are they on anywhere? No? Did they split up? Oh well, maybe we'll do something else then. Disco?"

Sharon likes lots of things. Mostly whatever other people like. Well, at least while she's talking to them anyway. She's always full of...great ideas, some of them for at least five minutes, but then she has trouble turning them into any kind of practical situation, you know? Take live bands: she loves them. Been to at least....well, a gig this year. You often see her in Rummers, but she usually leaves when the band comes on, 'cause she can't talk. She goes to Porky's instead. Sharon makes we want to puke sometimes.

"Yeah, let's go dancing! I feel like a boogie! Have you heard that thing, how's it go, "No-no, no-n-no-no, there's no linen!". I really just freak out when that comes on, you know?!"

See? Full of it. Talking to Sharon is like trying to nail oxygen to the wall - fucking annoying. Most of the oxygen escapes from her head. She came round my place once, "popped in for a coffee and a goss", and I mentioned this new CD I'd bought and she just had to hear it then. So I took her upstairs and she dribbled all over my collection and said she'd have to borrow them all sometime. I played her the new Primal Scream and she said it was great and then she talked all the bloody way through it. Then she told me to play it again when it was over. And then guess what? Right! Sharon's like that. She thinks she's really popular because she's such a sympathetic listener. Listener! HA! Her eardrums probably popped years ago so she wouldn't have to listen to herself.

"Oh no, look at her! God, I hate those big, black, plain shoes with the huge heels! They just look so stupid, don't you think? Oh... Oh, you just bought them, huh? Actually, I bet they really suit you. You've got the...figure to carry it off. Maybe I'll go try a pair on now, just to see."

A legend in her own mind, Sharon. See why? I've known grown men burst into floods of tears after she's talked to them for ten minutes, and go throw themselves off the pier. When the tide's out.

"You're going to the cinema? Oh, what's on? No, I haven't heard of that. Oh right, the Arts Centre. Bit weird, is it? No, I like those off-the-wall movies. Well, the stuff coming out of Hollywood is just so banal these days... Did you see "Dances with Wolves" with, um, Kevin Thingy? God, I just loved that! He didn't dance with the wolf much though, did he? Oh, when those soldiers shot it, I just cried for ages."

ARGH, where's a chainsaw when you need it? I often fantasise about decapitating her, but I'm scared her head would just keep talking and I'd never be able to bury it deep enough. I took her to see "Unforgiven" once, because "I loved 'Dirty Harry' and Clint is just so horny!", and she fell asleep during the gunfight! Then I couldn't stop her talking about how much she'd enjoyed it afterwards. Jeeee-sus.

"Yeah, I'll pop round for coffee and a goss if I get time, but I'm really busy now. Loads of essays, and I keep meaning to write them when I get back from the bar at night but I usually just want to crash out, you know?"

Amazing. Sharon isn't dumb, you realise. She got into Uni easily enough. It's like her brain just pegged out after A-levels though, said "That's it, I'm taking a break" and shut down. She's just running on personality and unfortunately it's a godawful one. Always going to see her tutor with some shite excuse for not doing her work. I get flamed to a cinder if I try it. But faced with an attack of Sharon's personality, I'd agree to anything to get her out of my office.

"Yeah well, look, I've got to dash and do some clothes-shopping and then I've got to start these essays. Christ, it's three o'clock now! Look, are you coming out tonight? Where? Oh god, I don't know. Hang on, Neil and Gary are going down the Bay tonight [Neil and Gary: two dickheads who can scratch their chins with their foreheads and think the world revolves around their gigantic egos. The two people in every pub who the rest of the clientele wants to senselessly beat to a pulp]. See you there? You don't know them? Oh, they're great! Really funny! You'd like Neil and he's, like, SUCH a good mate. Anyway, about eight o'clock, OK?"

Don't be so gullible. Two points: a) she won't be ready to go out till nine o'clock; b) she'll be in the Glen with someone else entirely. It's not that she changes her mind. She needs one.

"OK, great to see you again. Take care! Byeee!!"

Fuck ... off ... Sharon.

The author wishes to make it clear that these characters are fictional and are certainly not based on any friends of his, although any resemblance to several other people is maliciously intentional.

Ade Rixon.