Johnson had finally decided to get over his midlife crisis and move out of Mark's flat after two weeks of failed business plans, wallowing and ruining Mark's fridge organisation paradigm.

When Johnson first moved in Mark had felt powerful, this man who was once his superior had lost his job just like him, only Mark was able to get a job at JLB's sister firm. His paranoia about the company stability had paid off. He had taken to volunteering each time a brief needed to be taken over to their head office and had worked his way into the good books of the two receptionists there. They were nice older ladies, and so Mark found that he shared a lot of their vexations. He somehow managed to convince them he was human and they were able to recommend him for a minor position. He wasn't paid nearly as much as at JLB but at least he wasn't unemployed.

And for those two weeks that Johnson was staying with him, he felt immensely superior. But Johnson's boundless charm meant he wasn't out of work long. In fact when he informed Mark that he was moving out Mark didn't expect to see him again. But there he was at the front of the conference room on Tuesday as his new supervisor.

After the meeting Johnson gestured to Mark with all of his old authority. Mark tried to remember that this was the same man that was eating ice cream with a ladle and crying over Big Suze. Seeing Alan Johnson as a blubbering puddle of a man had almost destroyed any of the attraction Mark had felt towards him, but the commanding businessman in front of him was a completely different person and Mark obediently scuttled over to him.

"Corrigan! I'm sending you on an errand. I have a meeting at 5 and I want to exude 'confident and driven' not 'impatient and frustrated' get me a pack of cigarettes, a copy of Busty Beauties and a chocolate milk." He purred.

"Okay" Mark said without thinking.

"Good man Corrigan, wish I had ten more like you."

Johnson strode out of the room and Mark scrambled for a pen before he forgot his task.

Mark stepped over the threshold of the corner shop and was greeted by an electronic chiming that he took an instant dislike to. This was not Mark's usual corner shop and he felt uncomfortable in the unfamiliar environment.

The cashier had an earring. He looked like the kind of guy that went to places and talked to people and then didn't hate himself afterwards. Bastard. Mark supposed it was a good thing that this wasn't his regular corner shop because if he had to ask someone to ring up and bag a porn mag for him he'd rather never have to see that person again. Isn't this why the internet was invented? To stop embarrassing exchanges like this?

Mark handed over the chocolate milk and cigarettes.

"That all mate?"

I'm not your mate. Mark tried his best to avoid being openly rude to the minimum-wagers in an effort to dissuade mugging. 'That man smiled at me once maybe I won't follow him home and kill him with a bread knife.' A remote possibility but it could happen.

"Can I get a –" Mark gestured to the low shelf behind the till. God don't make me say it."Copy of B-B-Busty Beauties please." Yes. I, Mark Corrigan, did just ask to purchase a pornographic magazine out loud.

A smile slowly spread across the cashier's face.

"It's not-" Mark could feel his face getting warm. He didn't bother finishing his sentence. It's fine Mark, people exchange money for goods and services, that's how the economic system works. If they didn't want you to buy the magazine they wouldn't sell them.

"Which one were you after mate?"

Fucking shit-balls, they have more than one kind. "Uh…that one." Mark pointed wildly.

"That'll be £13.50, mate"

Mark scrambled for his wallet and almost ran from the store.

The Tuesday meeting with Johnson came around again.

"Bit disappointed in you Corrigan" Johnson said as he approached Mark after the arduous meeting "Thought you'd be able to pick a decent porn mag. Should've seen the tits on page 3, not impressive. But I'm a forgiving man, I'll give you another shot." Johnson wore a look that said 'You will be buying me pornographic material, Corrigan.' And Mark could feel his heart drop into his shoes.