the dreaded..

There i was, standing in an unfamiliar city, gun in hand, a man on his knees, back facing me. was i going to do this?.. nope.

I was in Bristol this weekend as i was meant to meet the better half's parents for the first time (properly). There had been a breif encounter of about 5 minutes some weeks earlier but that doesnt count on the account that i barely said hello. So you should know that they live in Wales. a solid 3 hours or more from mine, so it's not likely that i see much of them. But yeah.. we went for a 'meal'. i dont know why i put it in inverted commas.. we went for a meal.

To add to the pressure of this meeting it was also the birthday of said half..

'oh hello ben, what crummy present did you get for my daughter whos knickers you have undoubtedly wormed your way into?' i thought may be the initiating question. i was wrong. we were taken to a backstreet italian restaurant.. not unlike ones where a mafia boss might do a person, capiche... then ended up enjoying a delicious meal and drinking plenty of wine and having a lovely laugh. I have to say, they are a very nice bunch that family. So what did i decide to do? oh right yeah.. tell a story about how i accidently drank from a pint of an unknown donors luke warm vomit. GOOD ONE BENNY BOY. you know when you are saying something and everything in your body is shouting 'shut-the-shit-up-you-massive-bastard!!' ?.. that's exactly what happened. But my mouth and tongue kept formulating the story words.

Still, this story actually sat quite well, unbelievable.

I have since been informed that i had done well and i seem like a really nice lad according to a reliable source... what a winner.


in other news... i bought a new suit, i have applied for a job as a caretaker, a debt recovery person, and an exam invigilator. versatile eh?