Another cousin (and his stunning fiancee) has thrown in his lot with my pursuit of a debauched and hedonistic lifestyle.
Of course he would. He's involved in the marketing of Diageo (the company that gives us Guinness, Smirnoff and a range of alco-pops in the UK.)
They: "Right. Number one. You look like a tramp"
Me: "But I *like* these clothes. I'm very attached to them"
They: "Yes, attached like fungus. They've got to go"
Me: "Harrumph. Some of my clothes are older than *you*"
They: "That would be the problem... And as for your hair..."
Me: "?"
They: "Its very... er... 80s"
Me: "Its low maintenance!"
They: "Well. Its got to go."
Me: "!"
They: "So, we'll see you in Oxford Street at 6 tonight and melt your credit card. Then you can buy us dinner."
Deary, deary me.
