Sunday, 26 July 2009
It May Be Sticky But I Never Complain
Poor, poor Sack Posset. Poleaxed in pyjamas after a night of smeared lipstick and slipper-cricket, midnight chicken and caterwauling to Kate Bush. Now I’m psyching myself up to crawl upstairs for a back-to-the-womb Matey bath with Dickens and a spliff. I had four rashers in my bacon butty but it wasn’t enough to salve my maculate soul. A bohemian lifestyle is all very well and good, but I must learn to buy my Lucozade the night before the morning after.