Thetownend.com

Bit of back story...

I was happy. The day had been good: a blind man, the reduced sentence I had hoped for, a cordial handclasp from my client, a few generous actions and, in the afternoon, a brilliant improvisation in the company of several friends on the hard-handedness of our governing class and the hypocrisy of our leaders. ... I felt rising within me a vast feeling of power and — I don't know how to express it — of completion, which cheered my heart. I straightened up and was about to light a cigarette, the cigarette of satisfaction, when, at that very moment, a laugh burst out behind me.

What I need to know is shall I write tonight off with the crappy left over cans of fosters, or shall I treat myself to my little stash of Hobgoblin, Spitfire and Bishop's Finger? Once they're gone they are gone.

I sugest your medication first Ben.

I took all of it.

Oh yeah. I went with the nice beer.

Good man - nice beer is, well, nicer.

£1 a bottle in Lidl at the moment.

Indeed they are - I had a few earlier.  Now on cheap Lidl bitter.

 I would suggest a degree of self-inquisition into your alcoholic preferences. Followed by the purchase of a decent quality cigarette paper. Another possibility is an examination into the causes, symptoms and remedies with regard to your own self-embrillification. Should that fail, perhaps a trip to your doctor, with reference to a psychiatric referral, possibly concerning loneliness and a lack of attention.

I detest, the cheek and presumption of your advice is surely out of place for a gentleman, I can only come to the glaring conclusion that you are not a man of class.

 Likewise, I am unable to accept that such a simple, personal matter should be put before a forum when anyone with class and a basic ability to judge quality would not even consider buying Fosters in the first instance.

I was not the one to purchase the Fosters, but to be wasteful on such matters is a sin to society itself.

Ahh. A supper of wild boar pate on toast followed by some deliciously creamy Perail (sheeps soft french jobby).

Lovely end to my beers. Now I can move onto the red wine.

Ahahahaha fucking brilliant.

I just came in from having a fag and poured myself a glass of wine, forgetting that I'd done the same before I went out for a fag. I was only going to have one more but now I have to have two. How convenient.