During Tuesday nights at the fag end of winter you have to make your own fun. Skintness has descended like a murky fog, your guts hurt from overegging the boozey pudding at the weekend and there's nowt on the telly.
The only thing for it is to get on the bike, get to Lidl and buy a kilo jar of gherkins. These vegs are the most phallic tings I've ever seen. Like a jar full of pickled nobs from the 16th century that eccentric diary keepers would host on their desks for inspiration. Difficult to get into let me tell you...
No comments:
Post a Comment