If you are one of the doubtless millions (!) of people who read my blog each week you will know that I am a fevered believer in practicing my flirting skills at every given opportunity. Hardly a day goes by when I don’t try a new line on the bloke in the newsagent, or practice a subtle wink on my fellow commuters – it makes for a highly interesting existence let me tell you, particularly when I’m asked whether the twitch in my eye is a pre-cursor to a fit (true story).

But there are certain situations – admittedly they are few and far between – when flirting is about as appropriate as a box of vomit at a dinner party.

Last Thursday I headed out for dinner to celebrate a birthday, nothing fancy, just a bunch of my favorite idiots eating, drinking and talking utter balls. Fab.

One of the girls, Leah, decided to take this opportunity to introduce us to her new bloke. Ordinarily I would say that this is a very good time and place to undertake such a tricky step. But this time, hmmm, not so much.

Katie, a friend with amazing legs and bazongas that demand to be ogled, is an outrageous flirt. Show her anyone of the ‘rugged gender’ and she’s off, it doesn’t matter if it looks like his mother gave birth in a vat of boiling oil, if it’s a man, she’s interested.

So, a few drinks in and surprise surprise, Katie starts with the all-too-familiar hair flicking and lip licking. But on this occasion the silly mare turned her attention to Leah’s new guy. The shock of it being that he seemed to welcome her attentions, despite being seated next to his girlfriend! Katie, being the attention seeker she is, ramped up the flirting the second she realized she was getting a good reaction – she swapped seats to sit next to him, touched his thigh, made lame comments about the size of his muscles and whispered (Devil only knows what), in his ear. I mean honestly, it was blatant.

Good old Leah being Leah, didn’t bat an eyelid. We all know what Katie is like and we don’t even notice it anymore, so she just left them to it, but I must admit, even I thought she had taken it a little too far.

The next day Leah, the poor old fruit, called to say that her bloke had ditched her. And worse than that, the cheeky git had asked if he could have Katie’s number, claiming to be ‘in love’ with her! Good grief.

Well rather than telling him to shove it, she handed over the number. Leah knew full well that Katie was playing silly games. It would serve her right to have to deal with the fallout of her moronic behaviour and of course teach him a lesson or two in falling for a pretty face. The idiot.

I don’t need to tell you that flirting with a friend’s partner is more evil than putting drawing pins on your teacher’s seat and only about half as funny. And who wants someone’s grubby old’hand-me-downs’ anyway?! So don’t bother. Stick to random dudes – the newsagent, a colleague or my favourite, the postman – after all, any man who turns up on your doorstep with a large package deserves your very finest attention.

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