Come on round

Tonight I drank as much gin as I possibly could, while everyone from work came round to see our flat.

I ran away from the office about six this evening, when I'd reached that nadir of unproductivity where there's nothing to be achieved by deleting any more emails. My dear wife had been carefully hiding bowls of salted nuts around the flat while I shuffled data, so I had little to do when I got home apart from change my shirt and decide whether it was better to wear shorts or a pair of pinstripe trousers. My wife decided on shorts. Dammit, I wanted to keel over from heatstroke.

Anyway, I sat and stood and strode around the flat, until the office contingent arrived, when I could relax and stop drinking gin.

Well, start drinking gin diluted with tonic. IT'S THE SAME THING, ISN'T IT?

Everyone was very cheery, and nobody vomitted out of the windows of our flat, which was good, because we're 21 floors up and vomit that has fallen 21 floors could do you quite a mischief. Well, I don't remember vomitting out the window anyway. Perhaps I'll still have a job on Monday.

On Facebook, I asked if there was anything better than ladders. The correct answer is tractors and goats (tractors and goats!) but nobody guessed that; I was rather disappointed by the cultural awareness of all my friends. Ah well, I'm drunk enough to get over it.