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pip he spat out after being hand fed a bunch of grapes by
his half-naked bimbo.
    “Is that it?”
Felix asked, a little dejected. “I already have one.”
    “Great,” said
Max. How many followers do you have?”
    “About 37. I
don’t really use it.”
    “You do now,”
said Max. “I want you on it 24-7.”
    Felix was still
stuck in 1988. He had a fan club way back then. For £5 you got a
holographic membership card, a signed photo and an ’I heart Felix’
pin badge.
    He clearly had
to be dragged, kicking and screaming into the 21 st century.
    “Whatever you
do now, you post on Twitter,” Max explained. “It’s what all the
celebrities do.”
    The current day
equivalent of an olden day fan club, basically. A way to cultivate,
keep entertained and to polish your fandom.
    “Make a sausage
sandwich, post a photo of it. Scratch your arse, tweet about it.
The world needs to know. Oh and make sure you post plenty of
selfies throughout the day. At least one every hour.”
    Max put on such
a positive slant, it rubbed off on Felix and soon he was tweeting
more than a budgerigar:
    “Fancy a cup of
tea.
    No milk.
    Popped to
Tesco.
    So busy
tweeting, I forgot about the milk.”
    He was kind of
starting to get the hang of it… except he tweeted about having a
sausage sandwich and accidentally posted a photo of his bum. As you
do.
    However, this
got retweeted and favourited over a hundred and fifty times and his
followers slowly started to go up.
    Who knew
exposing your derriere could be so advantageous?
    About a week
later, Max Jacks was back from Spain and announced a special press
conference to which he invited all of the band.
    Holly and
Cherry still weren’t getting on so had to sit bookending Rhino and
Felix.
    The press were
gathered, well those of them that had bothered to turn up, and Max
rewarded them with an all exclusive:
    New single!
    New album!
    UK tour of
small venues!
    Felix was
pleased. Rhino was pleased. And as a bonus the girls didn’t kill
each other. Although Cherry was tempted.
    It was much the
same old story. Holly being the centre of attention. Cherry wasn’t
sure how much more she could take of this. Surely it was now her
time to shine?
    Felix was even
more excited when Max agreed they could record ‘Supermarket
Checkout Operator’ as the lead single. Felix was sure it would be a
total smash hit.
    He laid down
the lead vocal, while the girls recorded the backing vocals –
separately, of course – and Rhino played the cymbal.
    The finished
studio recording sounded divine, even if Felix did say so
himself.
    And they had a
big single release party to celebrate.
    Well, in a
small pub in Soho.
    Felix was still
tweeting everything he did:
    “Great
Party.
    Free booze.
    Hot
chicks.”
    Then one in
particular caught his eye. She was blonde and ravishing, with a
great set of tits. And she was trying to come onto him.
    Felix was
shocked when she introduced herself:
    “I’m Fifi Wood,
Holly’s daughter.”
    She looked
about half his age, and Felix did the math in his head.
    Then he
fainted.

Chapter 11.
(Daddy Uncool)

    Felix wasn’t easily shocked. He hadn’t labelled himself
tri-sexual for no reason. He’d been there, done that and bought the
t shirt on most occasions. But this one was new to him.
    Could Fifi really be HIS
daughter?
    Holly interupted and
dragged Fifi away from him, making up some excuse or other. She’d
pretty much given Felix the cold shoulder since the night of the
reunion concert. And now he was sure he knew why.
    The only other thing puzzling him was Rhino Zagreb’s
change in personality, or rather discovery of one in possession.
Who knew?
    Rhino of old made no
effort to say boo to a ghost. New Rhino was seemingly everyone’s
best friend. What a difference 25 years makes.
    Felix ordered another vodka mixer and watched across
the bar as Holly introduced Fifi to Rhino. She was flirting
with him now, definitely a cut off the old cock,
he thought, convinced now more than