It’s Sunday dinner and I’m in the queue, already bloated after a pint or two. The queue moves forward and I’m finally here! I think I’m gonna make myself sick, I fear! With five types of spuds and four kinds of meat I’m gonna get bloated right down to my feet! I load up on sprouts and Yorkshire puds too. I paid good money for this, so I think I’ll have two. The plate’s ready to break so I head for my table, but it’s so ******* heavy that I’m barely able! Huffing and puffing, I get to my chair and don’t waste a second; just dive right in there! I eat and I eat, ‘till I think I could burst, but I’ve gotta keep going and get my money’s worth. I stuff myself silly, and I’m SO full of food! Oh, ****! Need the toilet! But I don’t think I can move!