Quick Fix

Had to fiddle with the colours on this thing; it's started fucking with my eyes. I'm just taking some time out of my busy schedule of scamming bank managers out of 0% overdrafts (three new accounts opened, and counting), which I swear to James Mason I'll stop doing when I've funded whatever rent I owe. And a bus slash flight slash RIB to Liverpool. And an Electric Picnic ticknick. And a drink of some kind.
Well at least the Taste of the Summer 2009 (as coined by Stone Cold Steve Shipman- Jacques; the red stuff, I'm not a complete fruit) has started to get sickening. This is the appellation Steve places on a beverage, generally a sugary refreshing fruit-based one, at the start of every summer. Last summer (such as it was) my drink was Tesco own-brand 4% lager, which isn't nearly as bad as it sounds. The summer before it was snakebite, the summer before that it was Kopparberg, before it became as riotously expensive as it now is. Every year we drink these things til our kidneys fall out with us, and you can tell when the summer's on its way out because the drink becomes sickly and does nothing but give you a headache. This has now happened with Jacques. Just as well, because I was just starting to fear for my eye-teeth.
So what now? The landlord is still clamped to my back like someone else's shirt on a muggy day, and the bank managers may start talking to each other at any moment. Only one course of action remains- switch to dark rum for the autumn, polish the brass on my neck, and get up them stairs. Word to your mother...