'Ere! All Tom needs is a Garden fence and a hair net, to go with the gossip that came out of his mouth this evening. Like a little old lady who'd just found out next door had won the Lottery, in secret, Tom couldn't wait to get Noirin's opinion on the goings-on (or non-goings-on) between Bea and Halfwit.

Checking the coast was clear of eavesdroppers, Tom leaned over to Noirin.

"What's all that about?" he said, gesturing towards Bea. "She was letting him stroke her and stuff like that."

"She says she's sexual," replied Noirin, a bit randomly.

"Still!" said Tom. "She's been telling you about Marcus and how you are and there she is..."

"I don't stroke Marcus," confirmed Noirin, cutting Tom off mid-flow.

"I'm glad you don't stroke Marcus," he nodded, before getting back on the tittle-tattle train. "But she's doing exactly what she's telling you not to do. She's committing public suicide. Obviously Freddie's liked and she's cosying up to him. But then she's saying, 'he's just my friend, he's not my type'. And yet she's letting him stroke her and get under the covers. Pot calling kettle black or what?!"

Then Tom paused, wondering if he'd said a bit too much. "I know she's your friend and everything, but..."

"Sometimes it's nice to have a cuddle," was all Noirin could respond.

"Yes. Maybe," said Tom. "I'll suggest that tonight, yeah Noirin?"

He doesn't miss a trick, that one.