Awkward.There was something about Angie, the shape of her neck, those pear shaped breasts, the blue eyes, that long golden hair, maybe even her haught... manner that got under my skin in a way Amanda and Charlotte the other housemates never managed to do.Fridays were worst, most Fridays we had a gig somewhere for our little rock band, and straight after the last lectures we would set off with the amps and drum kit squeezed into my tiny van and the rest of the kit and the lads in Tom's Mondeo. I knewwhen I married her that she was a slut and would never be faithful to me.I was the one who let himself be led into Helen's surgery, like a dog ona leash, and given the first shot of the drug that would chemicallycastrate me and I watched as she filled up the first hypodermic needlewith a massive shot of oestrogen that would begin the process offeminising me. I did it almost in a daze. I was trying to rid myself ofthe jealousy I felt every time my wife came home in the morning with. More

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