They say that bad news/bad luck comes in threes.
If fucking only.Thats all I'm saying.
I hit a new level on the oul' gargling front this week,and me
after being reasonably good for ages.Last week can't be
counted as someone gave me a litre of Paddy,but in fairness
to me,I got nearly four days out of it,but there was also trips
to the pub.And wine and beer to help with the pressures of
cooking and eating,and online gambling.
I mean,who would have thought they were serious about that
50 K.P.H. speed limit on the Naas dual-carriageway,fifty,for
fucks sake,three lanes,straight road,broad daylight,5.15 A.M.,
dry conditions,140 K.P.H.,2 more penalty points,cunts.
So I was rooting around for a drink yesterday and the choice
boiled down to beer,which wasn't what was required,Baileys (puke)
or a bottle of Mulled wine,talk about Hobson's choice.Still,it
wasn't too bad once I got halfway down.
I mean,if you were doing 50 in those conditions,you might be in
danger of stepping out of the car to see if you were stopped.