So! Rather than give you my invaluable insight of human thought energy transference I’ll just talk to you about cooking instead. I’m (cough cough) years old, not the youngest pixie in the forest these days and have had enough time to practice my culinary skills to know I’m stink at the job. I get confused these days over adjectives since I watched the XFactor and So You Think You Can Dance where ‘You killed it’ and ‘That was truly sick man’ were good comments, but I actually stink at cooking using old farts vernacular.
Not sure if I was still drug affected by then but I felt it was just too gross to put in the bin so I decided to flush it down the toilet where is smelt it belonged.
Now the shower, hand basin, laundry and kitchen sinks are all out of action and Albert says I’m going to have to pay for the plumber to fix the mess out of my personal pocket money.
I’M SO NOT GOING TO COOK HIM A SURPRISE MEAL EVER AGAIN!