Sod the fact I'm ill - back to boring you with other stuffs.
Now, whilst down at The WhatACunt on Saturday, some people had them there bottles of cocoa-koala.
The latest craze is you get to share coke with a friend, and that friend's name appears on the bottle.
Personally, when it comes to sharing coke with a friend, I think I'd use that Tulisa out of N-Dubz, as according to the BBC she can set you up with a fizzy pop dealer for only a few thousand squid!
Anyhoo, Celebrity Britain's Allegedly Got Talent judges dispensing carbonated contraband is not my main bugbear.
It's that I'll never get a bottle with me name on it :(
I popped into Tesco to get some £20 Honey Jack Daniels (which is never in stock), and noticed racks of "slam packs" with diverse names galore. You name it, they had it.
Heck, on the advert, there's some gormstress who has a bottle named Frederick Ponsonby III or something, after her imaginary boyfriend!
How comes she can find a bottle with the name of a fantasy figment of imagination, yet not one bottle with my name on it.
Oh, there's plenty of bullets with my name on 'em - usually wielded by chavvy gayboys under threat that The Xym might nick their boyfiends and fag hags, but not a single bottle labelled "Xymon". And even if there was, they'd probably want to bumrape me with the bottle, like in I Spit In Your Gravy.
But then, I drink Dr Pepper anyway. So what's the worst that can happen?
Well, the worse is they could stab me up with their pork swords, and leave me buggered to death in an alley with me arse in the air with a bottle up the bum naming their victim. You wouldn't get that treatment from a "Female Boss" who's only 24 Hours From Tulisa.
or something,
