I know, I know. You want to hear about the dinner party. You want the tale of Huckleberry Hurling and the Tasteless Chilli. You crave details on how being a parent instantly transforms you into an insufferable bore. You lust for the knowledge of the proposal, the refusal, the stormy exit. And it's coming. Honestly, it's coming. And it's going to be so fucking hot that I may have to charge admission.
But first joyous tidings of joy. Again. Jesus fucking Christ but could people ease off with the happy news? I got engaged! I got a job! My puppies passed their Sociology finals! Give it a rest people, you're bringing us underachievers down.
Gav, whom you may remember, got his lovely wife up the Damien, is now the proud father of a beautiful baby girl. I'm guessing he's proud. I'm assuming she's beautiful. Maybe he's ashamed. Perhaps she's pig ugly. But I doubt these things, I doubt them with all my heart. And I am also convinced that both Gav and his lovely wife will, like myself, Common Law and a handful of others, escape the almost inevitable insufferable boringosity that child rearing produces. You have to have a little previous form, you see.
And so folks, for the second time in as many weeks, get those fucking glasses in the air.
Today's Title (Obviously I'd like you to listen to the whole fucking thing but if you need to be pumped full of drugs to endure Pink Floyd, ahem, then I urge you to skip to 1:08 where the improvised vocal tribute to the newborn begins)
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