A couple of months ago I was having lunch with my pal DCA, who works just around the corner from me. DCA was entertaining me with tales about the ugly women he feels compelled to sleep with. After some time, a lull in the conversation occurred.
"Say DCA, would you like to come over for Dinner Club tonight?" I sayed. You remember Dinner Club, reader. "You know, in case you haven’t had enough of watching me eat for one day."
"Nah, I can’t do nuffing tonight," said a stroppy looking DCA inhaling deeply on his fifth cigarette of the hour, "I’ve got this facking project to work on, ain’t I?"
"Oh yes. Who’s that for?" I asked. DCA works in advertising you see reader.
"Facking Bisto. Want to get rid of all that 97-year-old ‘Ahhh Bistshit’ facking shit wiv some facking new bollocks. But anyway, what’s this Dinner facking wotsit fing?"
And so, I began to fill DCA on the basic premise and philosophy of Dinner Club. As I spoke a distant look passed across DCA’s face. In itself, this wasn’t anything too unusual. DCA often seems distant. Not in a mysterious way though, readers. In a thick way.
"DCA? DCA A?"
"Nah, Nah. I woz listening. That doesn’t sound half facking bad actually."
"So, you want to come now?"
"Nah, Nah. Can’t. I’m still facking busy, ain’t I?"
"Ah," I said, "Bisto."
"Facking too right, facking Bisto."
I just saw the new Bisto advert.
4 weeks ago