I was a bit shocked at a passage on page 173:
"And their tongues intertwined like two slugs engaging in a courtship ritual. Squelch! Squelch! Squelch! Swish! Swish! Swoon! Mmm! Gordon slid his hand firmly down Veronica's silken thigh, as her cheeks blushed like a ripe peach on a tree, ready to be plucked! This was better than the hot flushes she had experienced before HRT. A whole lot better. Her Dennis Basso faux fur scarf dropped to the floor. Her diamonique solitaire glinted in the twilight. Gordon's eyes glinted with passion. The air was perfumed with lemon cologne and Tova Nights, tinged with the musky aroma of true love, a bit like the combination of a wedge of stilton and a tub of humous that had been left out in the open for a while longer than was ideal. With Gordon things were exciting, fresh and naughty. With Bill things were more dull than a water biscuit. Still it was ok to have a bit on the side. What he didn't know didn't hurt him, and something had to pay for all diamonique jewellery. Gordon began to unbutton his white twill shirt, his fingers fumbling with desire and aniticipation. He was rising to the occasion faster than a Yorkshire pudding in a hot oven! Veronica then switched on what she thought was the CD player, in anticipation of listening to "Night Birds" by Shakatak as a prelude her weekly bout of steamy sex. But instead the radio came on, playing "Torn Between Two Lovers" by Mary McGregor.
Veronica zipped up her Indigo Moon dress and stared out across the veranda at the sunset.
"What's the matter?" asked Gordon, Tersely.
"What's the matter? This is all wrong. That's what's the matter!
"You haven't complained these last 2 years!"
"I've just realised..."
"You've realised what?"
"That I ran out of instant coffee!"
