Snakes in the grass Part II

So I hear someone’s talking about me. To call him a friend of mine would be a real stretch, but I believe (well, believeD) we had a civil relationship, and I’ve never expected any less than good company and the occasional beer out of it. But no. Black people always have to feck it up.

Two sheets to the wind

Actually, these are about half the lessons I learnt over the weekend, but I thought these were the most pertinent. The rest aren’t really worth sharing, unless you wanna hear all about burnt spaghetti and how not to get laid.