Warning! Warning!
Those who have not had the good sense to cancel January - beware.
For here comes the sting in the tail of a month of sack cloth and ashes, cheerless stair-mastering, and home-made ham baps with all the flavour and consistency of an elderly sofa cushion.
You have not - as yet - had your credit card cut up by a pock-faced fifteen-year-old sales assistant in Pownd Sayver. The sales are still on. Delicious aromas waft from a tantalising array of restaurants. You've gone off your aerobics teacher.
You. Are. Going. To. Snap.
Before you know it, you'll be cramming your sweaty feet into a pair of £650 green patent Jimmy Choo f*ck-me boots with cream interior in the toilets at the pub, gleefully hurling your card across the bar and necking another tequila, B52, After Shock, sambucca, and throwing up a puree of lamb steak, potato dauphinoise and chocolate muddle puddle all over your new jeans.
Mark my words, these are dangerous times.
For here comes the sting in the tail of a month of sack cloth and ashes, cheerless stair-mastering, and home-made ham baps with all the flavour and consistency of an elderly sofa cushion.
You have not - as yet - had your credit card cut up by a pock-faced fifteen-year-old sales assistant in Pownd Sayver. The sales are still on. Delicious aromas waft from a tantalising array of restaurants. You've gone off your aerobics teacher.
You. Are. Going. To. Snap.
Before you know it, you'll be cramming your sweaty feet into a pair of £650 green patent Jimmy Choo f*ck-me boots with cream interior in the toilets at the pub, gleefully hurling your card across the bar and necking another tequila, B52, After Shock, sambucca, and throwing up a puree of lamb steak, potato dauphinoise and chocolate muddle puddle all over your new jeans.
Mark my words, these are dangerous times.
posted by Elizabeth at 5:26 PM
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