Drunk 'n' dishevel'd
Every time I'm tempted to pop back to visit blighted benighted Blighty, they come up with something to remind me what a pigmy of a once-proud country it has sunk to.
This time it's the government's surefire stocking-filler on How to Recognise Drunks.
Yes, I have ordered some for loved ones' ire and amusement.
Examples:
The pub trade lost no time dissing this load of cobblers as "absolute nonsense", calling on the Government to focus rather on supermarkets that flog cheap alcohol.
But Orwell lives: undercover officers will mingle in pubs this Yule and issue 80 quid fixed penalties to staff who knowingly sell booze to drunks.
Know what would have happened in my day down the Wandsworth Road Plough? Some undercover Filth come in and start dishing out tickets to Ray and the staff? I don't reckon he'd've made it out alive.
But fuck! Offensive language? Dishevelled? Sexy lingo?
It's like those tests to find out if you're an alcoholic: answer 'yes' to just 3 out of 20 and you're on the slippery slope ... me, it takes ingenuity and rubbery lies to squeeze even *one* 'No' out of it.
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