"What you doing tonight?" asks Paul. "I'm going to see Crispy Nuts at Antiknock," I answer.
"Watch out for the jealous boyfriend," Paul says, cackling maniacally into the phone. "You might get your head kicked in."
Schadenfreude might be a German word, but it's a British thing: Paul, a scouser, but still, remarkably, one of my best mates, finds nothing but amusement in the thought of me getting my "head kicked in."
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