Well I said I was leaving Brighton yesterday, and I'm never one to break my word. Dragging myself away from Lisa's flat at 11:50pm, I'm sure I'd reached the outskirts of the town by midnight, so that was one pledge effortlessly fulfilled. It was worth staying for the evening though, since it produced the unexpected (yet legally binding) statement from Lisa that "you can put anything about me on the internet except my full name and photo".
Which opens up a whole world of possibilities. I don't know about you, but I'm thinking used panties and Ebay.
Anyhoo, (he said, glossing over that last sentence), I arrived home just before 2am last night. Unless there are any traffic cops reading this, in which case it was nearer 3am, I swear. I'm now considering writing to the British Medical Council to ask if they'll register 'Polo Tongue' as an official ailment. Honestly, people should realise that if they give me three packets of Polos, I'm going to eat them. It's like giving a gun to a chimp and expecting him not to shoot someone.