Mash Blind Date: 'We divorced in 2017, is this some kind of sick joke?'

Tom, aged 38, is reunited with ex-wife Mary, aged 34, to see if the love they once shared might bloom again and for a laugh. 

Tom on Mary

First impression? 

My stomach dropped as my adrenal medulla flooded my brain with hormones and I regressed to primal fight-or-flight mode. Could it really be her? Why would this happen? Did she mean it when she swore to kill me?

How was the conversation? 

Horrifically tense. Even the most trivial of observations about the bread starter got weaponised. It was like we’d only been arguing yesterday and picked right up where we left off.

Memorable moments?

When her knuckles whitened around her knife as I admitted I’d been dating someone ten years younger than me. I honestly thought it was going through my eyeball.

Favourite thing about Mary?

She doesn’t follow through on her death threats.

A capsule description?

Intimidating, terrifying, expensive in a legal sense. With a strong undercurrent of bitterness and rancour, and the unmistakable implication that the world would be a better place without me in it.

Was there a spark? 

My heart skipped a beat. I may now have permanent cardiac arrhythmia.

What happened afterwards?

I ran home to check our divorce papers, make sure that the decree is really absolute, and ensure there aren’t any loopholes she could exploit. There aren’t. Thank fuck, there aren’t.

What would you change about the evening?

The location, the company, everything. Even the crème brûlée tasted like ashes in my mouth.

Will you see each other again?

I am willing to dedicate the rest of my life to making sure that does not happen. No matter what it takes.

Mary on Tom

First impression?

This fucking prick? Seriously? Do they want him to fucking die?

How was the conversation? 

Difficult. He seemed very reluctant to talk about his affairs no matter how often I asked him about them. Even the ones I’ve found out about post-divorce and haven’t even screamed at him in white-hot rage about yet.

Memorable moments?

I’m pretty sure he wet himself in terror just after the starter, when he admitted he was seeing that bitch who used to walk our dogs. To be fair I was reasonably close to murder.

Favourite thing about Tom?

The involuntary spasm of fear when he hears my name, and his cowering. Let me assure him he’s right to do so.

A capsule description? 

A spineless piece of shit with no integrity who follows his pathetic little dick through life. The bread starter was excellent though.

Was there a spark? 

It was more like a supernova of pure, unbridled loathing.

What happened afterwards? 

I keyed his car.

What would you change about the evening? 

Ideally, he wouldn’t have survived it and his body would never be found, but I’d have a watertight alibi.

Will you see each other again?

In hell.

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Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

On Tuesday a black cat will cross your path. She’s headed to your neighbour’s gaff because they don’t skimp on the wet food like you, you tight bastard.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Prepare for a rollercoaster of emotions this week: first, you queue for bloody ages, then you’re strapped in your seat by an uninterested teenager, then two minutes of thrills, then you stagger to a bin to be violently sick.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

It’s always annoyed you that the Zodiac killer just called himself that and didn’t kill one person from each star sign in order in a gruesome manner befitting their sign. You’ve resolved that you’ll earn the name properly.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

On Friday will discover that aubergines are actually real food, and not just there to liven up the Waitrose produce section a bit.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

Your horoscope will be back in just two short weeks! And now, live coverage of the Beijing 2022 Paralympic Games.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Hand sanitiser isn’t just for hands. It can sanitise anything, including a crime scene, you explain to your mate Sharon as she rolls her husband’s body up in a tarpaulin.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

This week everyone is an annoying fuckwit yammering on about your terrible decisions and their awful consequences. But don’t listen to them, President Putin.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Apparently there are two types of tour bus: the rock star kind and the one that shows sightseers the notable buildings of Cardiff. And you and your groupies and your cocaine were on the second one.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

Your parents already achieved this horoscope when they were half your age and had never been abroad, so ask them about it instead.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

Can UHT milk go off? Find out. That’s your homework for the week. Bet you won’t do it, lazy fucking Aquarius. You’ve always been like this.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

You will die this Thursday at 4.16pm. Sorry to be unusually specific on this occasion but it’s better you know.