I don't usually bother. I'll have a fry-up with the Map Twats on Saturday mornings, or sometimes make myself a bowl of porridge (salted, of course).
I never start the day with a four-pack of Skol Super-Strength Lager, unlike two chaps I bumped into on the way to work at 9.00 a.m. Perhaps when I get the sack I'll have that kind of leisure…
I'm marking essays and presentations today, and running a poetry workshop. Neal's off to a stag weekend, involving paintballing. As one of the guests is a 'journalist' for The Sun, we've commissioned him to shoot the guy repeatedly at close range. Media Studies in action!
1 comment:
At least, in theory, there is a stale sort of chemical pleasure to be taken from cheap lager. What on earth can one get from salted porridge? You can dress it up as a healthy option as much as you like but historically porridge has only existed to fill the stomachs of the poor.
There is a glorious irony in the middle class buying gruel and thinking they are giving themselves a treat don't you think?
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