It is 10.05 am and someone in the office has just consumed a cold Ginsters pasty,

[Sir C]

You have long admitted that your years of self-abuse* have rendered you largely incapable of tasting anything properly. Your olfactory senses are poor, enervated, spavined things. This is why you crave heat - it makes you feel like you're actually tasting something.


*And the coke, booze and fags didn't help, either.

There is truth here, aye.

[Burney]

There is truth here, aye.

And I got a wânking joke in as well.

[Burney]

It's odd how you have to go through metal detectors to get into any public building or hotel, but everyone just passes their weapon round the side and collects it once they've gone through.

Mind you, I quite Like the sound of somewhere whose local speciality is a baked potato.