i never anticipated my evening and drinking to begin like this... i spent, 20, nay... 30 ******* minutes, trying to help my neighbour find her white kitten... she asked me a few hours prior, so as i came home with my ***-**-** i spotted her in the window... then a heard an eerie meow... poor kitten, belle, a white (who'll probably turn blind in old age, as all white cats are prone to) rooftop mongrel, sitting under the car, next to the wheel. 30, ******* minutes, playing cat & mouse with her... obviously i was the mouse... nothing worked... broom, flashlight, toys, food... fickle creatures these feline terrorists and consumers of time... by 30 minutes in and knees sore from kneeling on grit cement, i turned to my neighbour and said: it ain't happening, she's enjoying herself too much, sorry, thanks for the offer of giving me 50 quid for catching her... the money's not worth it (and i'm eager to open the ***, and groove with some sudoku and techno) - obviously i thought the bit in the brackets.

great article in the supplement,
   brad pitt, the problem drinker...
   well...
    i'm a drinker,
   the problem isn't exactly
the drinking, but it would be,
had i a spouse...
    i find the sober hours of my days
quiet boring, tedious even;
and they could have thrown me
out, but then again:
   i'm quiet a decent cook -
     i wish i could ego-inflate that
statement beyond the bluntness
of it, and genuinely brag,
   but i can't be bothered venturing
beyond the actual food i plated
today...
   so i had me my potatoes readied
for a mash...
   and i had my salad:
   cucumber, spring onions and a little
bit of fresh chilli... dressing?
  some mayo some creme fraiche,
zest of a lemon, lemon juice,
salt & pepper, and a bit of sugar to
counter the lemon...
and i had me some chicken thighs
from the previous dinner...
    so? so i did what i do best:
improvise!
                  i hate bland potatoes
in mash anyway...
   two pieces of bacon, finely chooped,
and some spring onion...
   fried in butter and a little ol;ive oil...
chicken in,
  and then? the hints!
a little bit of cinnamon,
   a little bit of paprika,
       and? honey! just a little bit of it...
why? funny enough...
   chicken fried with a touch of honey
browns more easily,
   making otherwise un-edible
skin of a chicken, amber, ever-so-gently
crisp...
            then i plated,
took the chicken thigh pieces out,
and then poured the mixture onto
the potatoes, adding a tiny amount
of creme fraiche and mashed the tatties...
come to think of it...
             tasted pretty good;
people have their heroes, like keitch
richards... i do too... but it's a different keith...
keith floyd* -
             even if his food wasn't spectacular,
what was more inviting with regards
to his food was... well...
the fact that he had to gulp down a bottle
of wine when preparing the ******
food... and obviously gulped another
              bottle when eating it;
but that's men and drinking...
   from what i've seen women get too
dramatic when they drank too much,
   they, always seem to want to argue, why?
many a good man,
    had to enter a fist fight in a night-club,
over a woman, who drank too much;
it's not so?
    well, **** me, i guess i must have
dreamed up seeing this one guy
outside a night-club, get hit so hard in
the head, with a single punch...
   that i could swear, he died on the spot:
i was actually looking at a ******,
            evidently adrenaline of the others
spoiled the mood,
   since there was no realisation of the fact
that the guy was dead among them...
shame... it would have been great to see
the shock on people's faces
   with an accuser's words: 'what have you done?!'