What I hope for the 'looch is that he and Giggirl are shacked up together*, and are out gigging and giggling and getting just the right side of tipsy on Peroni cocktails every night. They hold court in dive bars, smart private members' clubs and back street locals around Town. Their courtiers are, for a night, London's nobility. Tales are told, the legends grow. Most mornings they hail a cab at 6am on Regent Street. Breakfast at Luigi's awaits. Pearls, Manolos, coffee and blackpudding. At home, in the hall, rests a gift-wrapped case of cucumber relish. "Sender: I Hunter". If the reality is different, I don't want to know about it. (* Platonically, like, I'm not weird or anything)