Bernie’s second stag night in Bath sucked sufficient poo for me to be home writing this at this time. His colleagues forced so much alcohol into him so fast, that he spewed and had to be taken home before dinner was even served. He was just a victim of his good-natured willingness to be publicly humiliated. Aww. A faction of the party went on to tuck notes into thongs regardless.

Oh, crap. I just remembered I have Bernie’s shirt in my bag.

My name anagrams to both THE COACH ROUSES SOUL and CHAUCER SOOTHES SOUL.