Dylan is such a good mate. He’s always there to get me out of a scrape, no matter what. He might be in the middle of an important client meeting, or on holiday with his girlfriend, or even fast asleep in the early hours of the morning – it doesn’t seem to matter. He’ll jump straight to it, and help me sort myself out.

It’s gotten to the point that I’ve started testing him, just to see what gives. There must be a breaking point to these favours of his, and I just want to see what happens if I keep asking for help at inopportune moments. Why? Well, I don’t know. Just for fun, I guess. It’s nice to keep your mates on their toes, isn’t it?

To this end, I decided to call Dyl up at 8:45 this morning, knowing that he had a presentation scheduled for 9am. I told him I’d accidentally burned out a back tyre doing doughnuts in a residential street, and now my truck was lodged immovably in some poor soul’s driveway until I could get someone to come and tow it out of the way or fix the tyre. This was mostly not a lie, the only stretch being that I’d actually done it on purpose.

I pleaded with Dylan to hook me up with that friend of a friend of his – the truck mechanic who never asks questions about how your vehicle ended up in a ditch or whatnot. I told him it was the only way I could claim the insurance, and if I didn’t do that I wouldn’t be able to pay my rent this week.

So, what happened? He told me he wasn’t getting his guy involved again, but that he would arrange for a car service near Moorabbin to send someone out, and that he would foot this bill. Like… what? Who does that? I mean, we’re good friends and all, but that’s just ridiculous. Maybe he just wanted to shut me up so he could get off the phone and go do his presentation.