I gas billed you face: desperate times call for immature measures.

I never knew VH1 Classics on a Saturday could successfully replace a night out. Myself and the baggage had epically drunk fun times singing our little hearts out after polishing off two bottles of vino and a bottle of some red shit which was supposed to be cherry flavoured, but then, however, had an exciting hint of cola cubes and paint stripper. Was most excellent. 

Flower land was a new experience for me. I had visions of endless fields of violets, blue bells and forget-me-nots broken up by the usual generic themepark frivolities. I couldn't of been more wrong. Instead we were confronted with a vast number of geriatrics huddled under a greenhouse. Not forgetting the fish torture shop... Sod the stones, lets watch the scaly bastards ricochet off the sides of the tank. BRILLIANT. 

A new excuse to avoid lectures is the moral stand. Or hows about if you're an egotistical prick no one is going to turn up. Tu comprend? 

£303 gas bill. World war 3 inevitably about to break out... Need I say any more. We just won't go there. 

Peace out. 

Yours truly. Mwah mwah.