I like DBT9, I do so hope he is real. And you and whereu and Mr Gordon and the rest, if you're not real then whomever is thinking me into existence and having me interact with all of you other non-existent entities, I reach out to you with one simple request.
Can you imagine us all getting pissed together at Copperbod's Ponderosa on the best single malt, with prawns, blue vein cheese and buckets of the best antipasto. A nice full bodied port at the end would be gratefully received.
And can you please imagine me younger, thinner, whiter teeth, still a player and a red convertible, European car would be nice.
Nothing happened . . .
I'm still in my crappy little office . . .
Nothing is still happening . . .
Are there you go. Hi Coppo, nice property. Meet my new wife, Bambi. Whiskey, why not. Half a bottle makes me so much smarter and by the end of the bottle I know everything.
Look at them prawns, what? You bastard, he's given me a seafood allergy in this frigging dream. Not cool.
