Shopping and ****ing

Two things I’ve noticed since I took over shopping duties from our absent mother: Internet shopping is a godsend, and it’s amazing how low your food bill is when it doesn’t include a trolley full of whisky.
I’m enjoying the responsibility and the distraction. I’m also enjoying ordering food that isn’t the cheapest thing in Aisle 7, and getting to cook and taste food that doesn’t taste like reconstituted cats liver. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed cooking for myself while I was at university. For a while, I was quite the gourmet, until those bastards from KFC opened a franchise within walking distance of the residence and within three months I’d expanded like an American. Bloody take-aways, with their bloody secret sauces and their bloody special coatings. I get almost erect thinking about Colonel Sanders and his Magic Blend of Spices and Herbs. I’d like to make love to someone dressed in a KFC uniform, rolling around on the floor among half-eaten Tower Burgers and thrown-away side pots of coleslaw and beans, before cleaning myself up on a lemon-scented moist towelette. The Stuff Of Dreams, my friends.

Is it obvious from this pause in proceedings that I’ve just spent ten minutes in the bathroom?

Someone from the council called today asking if we’d still like to continue with the tenancy, and how would we like to pay henceforth? I told them we’re abandoned by our mother and therefore high priority, and aren’t there benefits available to cover everything? She said she’d get back to me shortly. Finally, the hours of watching chav clans on Jeremy Kyle have borne fruit in my existence..

RC 31-7-08
1715 GMT