Souper Douper

Well, today has been off to a strange start;

Called at 3.00am by my little friend (I use the term condescendingly rather than as a description of size) 'M' who tells me that my best friend 'S' has just been rushed to hospital in a drug-fucked state. Seems he got drunk after celebrating buying his new duplex Docklands pad (as you do) , got paralytically drunk (as you do) , called in a rent-boy (as one might) , took some GHB or some-bloody-thing (as you don't unless you are a sad fucker) and then went into a bit of a state.

Rent-boy, of course, exits stage right, leaving little 'M' to casually browse through 'S's Blackberry and telephone half the gay professionals in London at half-past three in the bloody morning to impart the news. He also imparts the news to the Ambulance crew, the police, the hospital and anyone else who would listen.

God forgive me, but sometimes doncha just hate poofs?



Then thoughts turn to Christmas.....

We've been contacted by a client to say that:

"Regarding the Christmas Hampers we receive from you each year, please be careful who you send to, and what. Staff can feel compromised, and at least one staunch Catholic colleague has been offended by female nudity on a Harvey Nicholls hamper in the past"

Well thay're not getting a Christmas prezzie this year; over my dead body frankly. I'm urgently trying to ascertain who the Staunch Catholic was so that I can send her a Clone Zone voucher and a complimentary tub of Boy Butter.

For God's sake!


Seems that the Chinese eat 60 BILLION litres of soup annually; can you imagine?