The Unreal Ones

'She's almost like a real person.' Martin had that look in his eyes again as we hurried to grab a table, sipping our full pints as we weaved through the crowd.

'What?' I said as we sat at the table.

'She's almost... almost, mind... like a real person.'

I put my beer down on the table. 'She is a real person.'

'No.' Martin shook his head.

'No?'

'No.'

Sometimes I wonder about Martin. My mother always said there was something not quite right about people she called too clever for their own good. Although, she never met Martin, I'm sure she would hold him up as the perfect example of the type.

I looked up to see him sitting back, arms folded, looking smug. 'All right,' I said. 'Explain.'

'You and me are real people.' Martin looked around the bar.

'Me... I know I am. You... well' I sipped my beer.

Martin edged forward in his seat, leaning over the table towards me. He waved me towards him. We both leant forward over the table like co-conspirators.

'You, me... everyone in this bar, in this pub... we are real people.'

'Right.'

'People like her: Surianne Jameson, they are not real.'

'What you mean celebrities?'

'Amongst others.'

'Well, I can see that they... well, some of them at least live lives completely different from the way most of us lea....'

'No. You don't understand.' Martin shook his head. 'That is just the point; they don't lead lives at all. They are not real. They do not exist. Not here, anyway.'

I looked at him. Martin was capable of spectacular wind-ups at times. This was not one of them. At least, I thought so. 'You're not winding me up, taking the piss are you.'

Martin shook his head. 'I'll prove it.' He sipped his beer. 'Listen....'

So I did.