Italy. An interesting, infuriating place to live as a gin-raddled expat. Some notes and observations.
More like it - i refered in the unmitigated pages to the tunnel vision associated with a big session. We are given the opporunity with this detailed close up of your immediate environs after lunch to share your enjoyment. It is possible to spend hours staring at the immediate scene, assuming one has already ruined one's chances with ladies to either side and opposite by using shoick tactics in the hope that this will impress. After having been turned down and having had one's hand removed from knee/thigh for the umpteenth time, you may well have resorted to rudeness. " Actually I was only offering 'cos you look like you haven't had any for a while ......" Left alone with your thoughts and counting the typos on the sugar sachet it is only a matter of time before one slumps face first to the table - to be awakened late " ... I think it's time we went home Darling,perhaps I'd better drive, do you have the keys ? ...."
Thanks Ron ,and Diplo for so accurately describing the inevitable aftermath of a Good Time.Nice to know I`m not alone in spirit,when my particular "Darling`s" disapproval is shown when her mouth assumes the aspect of a pussy cat`s arse.
It's always nice, after a big session, to be welcomed home. In your case, probably by a giant pile of shite left by the as yet untrained hound.
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