Urgh, Lasagne. Layers on layers of pasta all piled up, just like my problems. Maybe if I eat half of it, then move to the other side of the table to eat the other half, I can pretend someone else ate it and it'll ease the crippling loneliness.

As he sat at the table surrounded by many more empty ready meal trays, Mark spooned through his massive lasagne for two as he thought through the events of the last 36 hours which specifically affected him. The wedding car had dropped them off at the reception and despite Jeremy's insistence that it was their human right to be driven home, they got out and called a taxi to take them back to Croydon. Mark considered taking the train, but decided that being sealed in a box with just one person rather than three hundred massively reduced the chances of somebody ending up throttled. Plus, it would have be much less hassle to dispose of the body if it had only Jeremy looking at him while he did it. There was never any British social repression when it came to hiding bodies. God he had wished he lived in the 1400s. But he didn't. He lived in the 21st century, with its TVs and its T shirts and its marriages the woman had a legal right to get out of. He ate the rest of the Lasagne while the TV was on. At least now he was alone he didn't have to care about whatever the hip young person was shouting about today. It was just him and his Lasagne. And maybe a prostitute. But he took comfort in that Jeremy was miserable too, he was sick of coming home to find him cheerful, while he felt like he'd jumped into a bath of razor blades and taken a shit of salt.

Meanwhile, Jeremy sat in his room drinking a bottle of beer, surrounded by many more empty bottles.

Super Hans. The super shit. Shit Hans. Maybe if I can come up with one spiteful enough then it'll stick. Then I'll take the super name.

He moulded the blue tack into another arm. One of his stupid arms that he probably had wrapped around lovely Nancy. Obviously she'd gone off with him too, he thought, but he's just worse, the bastard. He finished the model and took it into the kitchen to burn it on the hob. If he burned it with a cigarette lighter it'd be like he'd won.

God, I'm never doing drugs again. Well, proper drugs. Not just the ones Mark says are drugs like weed and poppers and chocolate biscuits. Hmm. Maybe I can burn some weed as well and get him into it. He'll just replace Sophie with drugs, I'm sure that's fine.

He walked through the apartment trying to find more blu tack, the place looked like it'd been used as the venue for a mosh pit for weight watchers, when his phone started buzzing. It was a text from Hans (he'd deleted the word "super" off of his contact name on the way home as revenge). It read:

Compactor's coming to pick up some stuff.

Shit! His menacing friend! Does he mean… our stuff? Shit! Where do you hide bongos? What's a bongo shaped container?

There was a knock at the door. Mark had finished his lasagne and was hoping he could have wasted some more time staring at the empty dish, to sort of ration out looking around his empty, lonely flat, but got up and went to answer it. There was a stocky, bald man who looked like he could brush his teeth by spreading toothpaste on the underside of a lawnmower and sticking his head in the blades. He was wearing a white T shirt and a red tracksuit, which hid the first half of his neck tattoo.

'cist'? What could that be? Racist? Fascist… classicist? Maybe he has a cyst and he's proud of it and a moron.

He couldn't figure out what he had in a little tin foil package. Hopefully it wouldn't be something that would end him up in a book in five years' time as "one of the ones who did nothing to stop him".

"Alright mate? Compactor."

Is that his name, or what he's decided to feed me into?

"Erm, Mark. Who are you?"

At that point Jez came around the corner.

"Hi Jez. I'm here for some shit from last night."

Oh. It's one of his friends.

"Erm, yeah. Sure dude. Sure, sure, shortbread. Come in, man." said Jeremy

God I hope that seemed cool enough. Hopefully he'll go for Mark's shit first now.

Mark watched compactor walk through to the kitchen with some fear. He couldn't really ask him to leave once Jeremy invited him in. This was one of the many times he wished he could be Polish or American or one of those other horribly unrepressed countries he could never live in.

"Sorry guys, I just left some of my relish here." He opened the fridge and took out a little pot of red paste. He opened up the tin foil package and inside was a sandwich. He spread a bit on and offered it to Mark.

"You want a bit, mate?"

Urgh. Mate, again. He probably thinks we're friends. Might as well take the tribal bong though so I don't get an eagle head shoved up my bottom.

He started eating it. Of all of the masses of things he'd eaten for comfort since the wedding which currently were strewn all over lounge, this was definitely the best. He had to know what it was. Hopefully it wasn't drugs.

"What is it?"

"Ostrich meat, mate. Best in the market."

"God… Really?"

"Yeah. It's difficult to come by unless you know the right people, but it's the most succulent beast there is right now."

Jeremy looked on at the two getting along. He was supposed to be the funny one. He was jokes, Mark was the history channel documentary you had to watch during the adverts on all the good channels. He had to cut in. Stay as the cool one.

"Yeah, I like ostrich. I have it all the time. I know those people. They're cool."

"Oh yeah?" said Compactor, walking over to the cupboards to get some salt. "Who do you know?"

"Like… err…D…D…"

Compactor stopped suddenly. "Are those bongos in the washing machine?" he said.

"Oh those? No. That's just the washing machine playing up, always folds my clothes up like that. Huh. BAD WASHING MACHINE!" he shook his finger at it. "Anyway, we have things to do, so…" he waved his hands towards the door, desperate to get him out before any questions started.

"Oh, right," began Compactor before Mark cut him off.

"No, stay! Could you give me some contacts for…"

Jez stepped in front of him. "Sorry, we really must be getting on. Thanks for stopping by."

"Yes, well, thanks guys," he said, and walked out the front door.

A couple of days passed. Mark was in the sitting room with Jez, eating a family takeaway Jalfrezi with both a garlic naan and a pashwari naan, while they watched Big Brother or I'm a Celebrity. To mark it was all just people shouting about how everyone had spilled their six kilos of makeup into everyone else's drinks so now they all had to fuck each other anyway. He had been thinking mainly about that ostrich sandwich in between making forty sausage rolls at a time.

"So… Jeremy, how do you feel about Super Hans right now?" he asked tentatively.

Jeremy stared at him, "Sort of like an 'I'm going to practise keyhole fucking surgery on him with a jagged rock' kind of feeling right now."

"Right, right. I think it would be good if you talked, though. Remember all those good times? Like the time you watched Batman on that acid trip and had to throw away your black curtains afterwards? Or the time you nearly poisoned him after you read that thing on the internet about getting high off of white spirit mixed with candy canes?"

"Yeah, I just don't think I can talk to him again."

No! Not that! Get me Ostrich meat, you bastard!

"Of course, I understand. Well, you should still think about it."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

I can beat Super Hans. I'll be Super Super Jez. I mean, what's he got that I haven't anyway? He's just a load of drugs, right? Ahaa. That's it. I'll pop up in her life like a jack in the box. A drug wielding jack in the box. Super Super Jez in the box.

The next day Mark was on his way to Super Hans's. He had a special "goodbye Nancy" letter in his hand. He thought it was weirdly heavy, but decided it was probably fine. Maybe this was the kick up the arse Jeremy needed to realise life wasn't just a place where you see how many swear words you can write across your teeth in felt tip. It was actually a place where being thoroughly miserable was your reward for trying to avoid being broke and homeless.

Maybe this is what makes him finally grow up. I bet he'll end up more successful than me and I'll have to spend the rest of my life pretending to be happy for him while actually getting more miserable myself. Still, could always hang myself. I'll spend my last bits of cash on a DIY class and make it so it would be incredibly hard to cut me down and he'd have to leave me swinging for days. That'll show him.

He reached his flat. It was in a quiet, residential area opposite a park. Weird, he had expected it to be the sort of squalid place where you'd have to do something awful with your genitals at the door guard to prove you were worthy of getting in. He buzzed for Super Hans's door – the label for which was weirdly cleaner than the others – and a minute later he was down.

"Alright Mark, what's occurring?" he asked.

"Hey, Hans, I've been told to…wait, do you change the label on your doorbell?

"Of course I do! Every month! First impressions are very important, Mark. Don't want people to think I'm some sort of dirty scumbag who only dusts so he has something to black up with. Nah, people see that doorbell, they instantly know. Clean. Not like these floor-shitting monkeys. Anyway, what did you want to tell me?"

"Right, yes. I've been told to give you this envelope for Nancy, and also, do you have the number of someone who does Ostrich meat? I'm asking for a friend, obviously I'm not addicted to eating or anything."

Damn it, Mark! He knows you don't have any friends!

"Err… sure dude. I'll just look through my phone. Hang on a minute. Come in." He led Mark into the foyer as he pulled out his Nokia.

"Thanks Super Hans, I really appreciate it," said Mark. Just as he was about to call the lift he heard his phone go off. It was a text from Jeremy. Mark really hoped he wasn't having second thoughts after he'd already mentioned the envelope to Hans. It's not right to leave someone with an unopened envelope like that only to take it away again.

Don't go in! Just give her the envelope now!

Mark read it a couple of times before it hit him.

The bastard! He's followed me here!

He ran out back into the street and started shouting Jeremy's name. After a couple of seconds he saw him across the road crouching by some bushes trying not to be seen, as though his camo jacket actually worked as a camo jacket.

"Jeremy, you stupid bastard, I can see you!" Mark shouted across the street. He saw him try and dive behind the bushes, but he tripped and got stuck in the branches, then free himself and run across the street to Mark.

"What's going on? Why haven't you given her the drugs yet?"

Super Hans and Mark reacted simultaneously and immediately.

"What drugs?"

"Err…"

Mark was outraged. "Is that what this is? Am I your mule? Your drugs mule? You're making me into your drugs mule and you're trying to ride me back to Nancy like the world's shittest knight!"

At this point Nancy arrived at the doorway. She stood next to Super Hans and surveyed the scene.

"Oh hey Mark, Jez. Were you hiding across the street with your binoculars again?"

"Err, well, hmm. Mark, just give her the envelope."

"Me? I'm not doing it! I'm not your drugs dealer."

"Fine," said Jez. He ripped the package out of Mark's hands and shoved it at Nancy. She opened it cautiously. She gave a little "oh" as she pulled out a picture of her and Jez having sex drawn on a king size rizla, followed by a little bit of crystal meth.

Yeah! There ain't no love missle like a big stick of crystal!

"Well, Jeremy, this is, uh, wow." She rolled the meth between forefinger and thumb as Mark looked around, horrified somebody would see them blatantly being around drugs on a public doorstep, while Super Hans looked on bemused.

"So? I gave you the top drug! Isn't that enough, eh? Wifey?"

"You know, I am your wife. Maybe, in some weird way, this is a message from God about our relationship?"

Jez was relieved this plan was working so well. "Yeah! Absolutely! Go God!"

Nancy rolled a bit in her palm, tipped her head back, and snorted it right there. She flicked her head forward and gave a "woah!" as her nose burned and she felt the drugs. She smiled at Mark and Jez.

"Why don't you guys come in? It'll be fun! Come on!"

Jez and Mark looked at each other for a moment before stepping inside. As they walked towards the elevator, Mark started thinking.

Why does Jeremy have to have a gift from God? I slave all day like one of his bastard servants while he stays at home wondering if he can invent an eighth deadly sin to name after himself. I'm the one who introduced him to Nancy, both times! I should be the one with the God-given meth addict! Actually, maybe I am. I am the one behind them. Maybe there is a God. Maybe this is my time! Fuck Sophie! This is what the universe wants!

The four of them walked in to Super Hans's flat. Nancy skipped off to the bedroom, while Mark pulled Super Hans aside and started murmuring something Jeremy couldn't hear about Ostrich meat or something. He was really jealous about this place, it would have been as homely as an IKEA showroom inside a massive chunk of fresh, warm bread if it wasn't for the very prevalent smell of drugs and the knowledge there was a snake around here somewhere.

Hans doesn't deserve somewhere this nice. I deserve everything he has, including Nancy.

He was at this point he felt the snake wind around his ankles.

Hello, hello. Hi little snakey, would you like a little bit of drugs too?

He still had a little scrap of meth in his pocket. He was fairly sure this was a good idea. He dropped a bit of the meth by the snake's mouth, but it didn't seem to eat it. He cursed at it and kicked a bit of the meth at its outstretched tongue and it went in.

Fucking goal!

It was at this moment that Super Hans came over to him. Mark seemed to be looking around Super Hans as though trying to see into the bedroom for some reason, but Hans seemed a little anxious.

"Look, Jez mate. I've been a bit of a bastard here. I'm sorry for going off with Nancy. I've been filth, Jez. A nasty, thieving hypercunt. If it was me, I'd break the guy's fucking kneecaps and fill him full of gooseberries or some other horrible shit. What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry."

Jez waited a moment after hearing this. He realised he didn't want Super Hans to be murdered by a snake anymore. He actually did sort of miss him. He had to forgive him now. He had to come clean about the snake.

Mark had been watching Super Hans's apology and Jez's face fall and was aghast.

Don't let him have her back! He's had his turn! Give her to me!

Jez saw Mark giving him one of his "I hate you and am trying to hide it" faces, and wondered if he'd seen the thing with the snake.

Shit! Better come clean, quick.

"Super Hans, just before I forgive you, so that you still sort of have to be nice to me, you should know that…"

At that moment, Hans's phone went off.

"Hey Compactor… yeah… course he bloody does, he wears shirts… cool". He hung up and turned to Mark.

"Ostrich here in five minutes."

"Yes! Thanks Super…" started Mark, but Nancy burst in.

"WHO'S UP FOR METH?" she shouted.

They all whirled around and saw Nancy jumping through the room towards them with the envelope of meth. Jez and Super Hans looked at each other in a brief moment of fear.

Shit. Don't want to actually do meth, I just want to hang around people who do.

Mark looked at Jeremy and Super Hans looking at each other and panicked.

They're going to go mad for meth! I bet they do it all the time! I have to show my nose-dick is bigger than theirs!

"I'm going to do meth off… off…" he looked around and saw a snake coiled around a chair, hissing. "Off a snake!"

Maybe this is what God wants.

"Wow! Go Mark!" she shrieked in surprise. "Let's do it!"

Jez considered doing something. The only problem was that he would get shouted at quite a lot more now there was actual danger involved.

Nancy advanced on the snake. "Come on, Graham, come to Nancy. Come on, help me, Mark."

"Right…" he went behind the chair. This was the ultimate test of his nose-dick. They nodded at each other and they grabbed it together. Mark wrestled with the read end while Nancy wrenched both hands over its mouth as it thrashed around in a blind, drug fuelled rage.

"Nancy! I've got something to tell you," started Jeremy. "The snake…"

"ARGHHH!"

Nancy recoiled and knocked over the chair trying to wrestle the mad snake off of her face. The three men stared on in horror as she tried to prise the jaws off of her nose as blood steamed down her face. She flailed one hand blindly on top of the countertop and found a knife which she started stabbing wildly at its head. After a few stabs it fell to the ground, her body was strewn in blood and the equally bloody snake slid off into the flat, leaving a streak in its wake. She ran out the door leaving Mark, Jez and Super Hans paralysed, looking at the blood covering the floor. Jez looked out the window and saw her turning the corner at the end of the street when they heard the doorbell.

"Probably ostrich man," said Super Hans.

"Should we just… you know," said Jez.

"Yeah," said Mark.