Sunday, July 08, 2007

Tastes like pesticide

I have decided to go non-alcoholic, a man of my Kaliber shouldn't be measured in a percentage (especially not the 54.7% of Pusser's rum).

It's early days (mornings) yet - the fine selection of breakfast wines has been binned, and the vodka in the tooth-mug has been replaced with camomile tea.

So now I go to bed with a head less fizzing (rather than collapsing in a garden), and I've realised that people don't have black lines round them, aren't cell-shaded and actually do say things worth listening to at least a fifth of the time.

There are, however, some sober revelations:

  • I actually am short-sighted; the blur is in the hardware, not the chemical
  • Dogs can't speak English
  • Newsreaders aren't comedians, and the news isn't a sketch show (except Fox News, of course)
  • I have a job, and apparently I've been doing it quite well for some years
  • No matter how quickly I turn round, I'll never catch shop mannequins talking about me behind my back
  • The !990s happened to everyone else as well
  • Gentile is not a colour
  • Taupe is a colour, but not a very nice one
  • The lyrics of the primary school hymn that goes "I am the Lord of the dance said he" do not continue with "and I'll eat you all wherever you may be"
  • I'm happy

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