I had an accident over the weekend. Not what’s you’d expect, like the crash-bang-thud-twisted-metal-body-parts-everywhere kind. Nope, this was a self-infilicted bout of indigestion, probably resulting from an unhealthy mix of whole grain mustard, chillies, peppers and dodgy beef. Bad.
Tell you what, friends and neighbours, nothing puts life into perspective more than a Saturday morning spent worshipping the porcelain god. And the realisation that you have only two rolls of funny-paper left, and you KNOW that won’t get you through the day. I know, gross. Brings a whole new meaning to the word wamama.
Needless to say, my weekend sucked, and worse still I had to lie there and watch Zimbabwe losing to bloody Angola, and of course get all the dumb texts from Chelsea whores and Arsenal fags in turn.
I vow to henceforth subsist on potato salad and cheese sammies.