Take one 6.30 alarm clock and combine with a que for the bathroom and a 20minute walk. Ensure that the wind blows for added flavour. Take a dollop of grumpy commutors and roll into a late train, sprinkle with four pounds. Repeat this process but substitute the train for a bus, preferably with no seats. Mix these ingrediants in a bowl with some bitterness and a faint hangover. Now you can start adding the patronising supervisor, weak tea and broken mouse, but do so slowly to make sure the mixture does not appear flat. Once fully combined, put the mixture into a liquidiser and set to grating collegue laugh, and spin for 30 minutes. Then carefully spoon the mixture into a square tin, previously greased with emergency tax and bake in office temperature for 8 hours.
Having is job is baaaaadddddddd. Reading in the metro that an 18 year old girl won 7 million on the euro lottery nearly reduced me to tears the other morning. I dont need 7 million. Just enough to buy me a little shop and a house and maybe some mussels in that italian near charing cross every once in a while.
1 comment:
not charing cross, EMBANKMENT!
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