Another crapfaced rainy day, another freakin radical blog post. Yesterday evening, eating our dinners in opposite ends of London, my girl and I decided to send each other picture messages of our respective meals (we're like that). And aaaaww... who would have thought it, we'd gone for the same thing. Well... almost

Here's mine:

A stilton, some reblochon, freshly baked thick crusted bread, a subtle Chianti.

And this is hers:

WTF. However budget her choice of cheese (those bits on the right look suspectly like finely sliced BabyBel) I'm not knocking it - she lives right next to a LIDLs. What I am questioning is her decision to wash down a halfarsed collection of below par cheeses with warm Carlsberg. Last time I checked I was the one with the penis and she was the one with the PMT.

I have no idea what internet dating is like but I'm about to find out.


  1. Spot the difference indeed. I'd like to play a game of spot the difference with your supper picture shown here... and your ORIGINAL supper picture.
    Yeah, yeah... you know the one - the one with the half eaten packet of found-at-any-crappy-cornershop undeniably common digestive biscuits.
    Um. Freshly baked thick crusted bread my PENIS.

  2. I don't know what you're talking about. do you know what a restraining order is?