Just found this shot. This was the body count from last week's debauch dinner party on the Saturday*. Some of them are big 'uns too. There were about 16 of us about half of whom were women who obviously don't drink much apart from Giulio's partner, the Tiger Woman, who can (and does) drink most chaps under the table.
*A few of these fell at luncheon on Sunday, but not many.
5 comments:
Very good. I'm pleased to see the ex-pat spirit is still strong and you haven't taken a soft Med/Italian resolve-weakening stance to drinking. In the face of some pretty horendous booze you are sill fighting the fight, holding your own, willing the will and demonstrating levels of stamina and commitment of which St George would be proud. In this battle it is wise to hold a little in reserve for an off day - I am recruiting a strike force who can be deployed at an hour's notice to come and lend support should you any time feel not up to it.
I'm so behind. This Sunday I just had one bottle of Thwaite's Strong Ale with my side of pig.
I'm right off it. The thirty year hangover has left an indelible mark on every vital organ except my skin. Boiled water and and the occasional shot of thin shellac will have to do me this summer.
If you get really strapped Fred, just run the gas through a glass of milk.
Fred, I am concerned at your posting, mainly because you have held up the mirror to myself. Having probably ten years of hangovers on you it is becoming obvious that it may have all been a bit of a mistake. All that fun, bad behaviour and the embarrassment of ones chums is finally coming home to roost. What you don't want to hear (except at Marco Pierre White's) are the words 'a bit of a fatty liver'...well at least it's not a 'pie crust' liver...wonder why they give this magnificent organ such culinary descriptions?
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