As well as getting to see my my great group of friends there, I also get to see a special person. And oh, take the tube to work for enough days before it becomes a pontificating ball ache.
And buy a new Lush bar. For my bath time extravangas.
And go to Top Shop.
And go Chav Spotting.
Also – win! – I’ll see Poen. I am so excited to see her, she’s studying there for 18 months (now after her Kenya stint), and we’ll be able to paint the place a heinous shade of scarlet red. London with Poen around is going to be rather fucken fun.
London with someone special is also going to be wonderful; especially after the incredible trip that was had in Italy.
And seeing some of my other crazy mates for a usual razzle is always hysterical.
But now before that, I’ve decided to man the fuck up and go professional on the poen vibe.
I’m going for a nethers wax this evening.
That’s today. After work. Ant’s coming round afterwards for a [strong and aneathetising] drink. How am I going to cope? That beauty salon is going to be reverberating at the walls, as my screams rip through concrete. Crisis.
Quick: is it true? A cuppa coffee beforehand and two Myprodols numb the follicle pain?
Can I ask for a general aneasthetic?
What about a local?
I’m such a
And there’s being Poen Shy. Do I just whip my doondies aside?
OK. Panic stations, I’m going to do it.
PS: The Dove sent this to me yesterday. Holy mother of Dickens, what the devil is this? I’ll tell you what this is, on close – and nauseatingly difficult – inspection – My Eyes! - it’s a wors/pap combo sausage.
That’s pap attached to its worsy counterpart.
Now selling at Pick ‘n Pay. I dunno about you, but I just lost my lunch. Even asked the cleaner if she’d eat this and I got a ‘Eish no man.’
The skin of the sausage is stretched over the pap. I imagine, to keep it in tact on a grill:
‘Try me I’m new!’