You are forced to sit on one of those 'back chairs' in a brightly-lit room with a doozy of a hangover: headache, sweats, nausea, self-loathing, doom etc.
Jimmy Tarbuck is keeping up a constant 'comedy' monologue.
I'm tempted to post but fear self fulfilling prophecy far too much to chance it. I'd much rather go for things in a bloodless afterlife that turn out to be much better than you could ever have hoped for after the wasteful, selfish greedy life you've led.
For starters toasting marshmellows over an open fire, listening to cheesy 80’s songs - a bit like an agreeable camping excursion...
I'm tempted to post but fear self fulfilling prophecy far too much to chance it. I'd much rather go for things in a bloodless afterlife that turn out to be much better than you could ever have hoped for after the wasteful, selfish greedy life you've led.
For starters toasting marshmellows over an open fire, listening to cheesy 80’s songs - a bit like an agreeable camping excursion...
Sorry Spengler, I tried to think of something from my childhood. Something that could never ever possibly destroy us... Mr. Stay Puft.
