CHICK-IN-A-BOX

I only put that there because I have this picture I want to use. This is the second time I have used a picture of a chick-in-a-box. Not entirely puzzling, as it sounds like "Dick-In-A-Box" which is a particularly funny song. Go on. You know you want to...

Anyway, this all conveniently bring us to the point in time that is now. When I inform you that I have a clicky thingy on the right here. You click on it. Then some little being in the remotest parts of the ether-verse tots up all 15 votes and has a quiet chuckle before disappearing in a disappointingly uneventful *poof*...

So, please go "Click-In-A-Box" and who knows, I might be getting some sort of prize for this here wee soapbox of mine. Perhaps something really groovy like a set of handkerchiefs, or even better, my own personal mime. We all have to start somewhere.

In a thoroughly dismal night's underperformance, Team Burger King did not end on the high we were all hoping for. It was more like an already deflated balloon than angelic trumpeted fanfare. We manfully attempted to regain our high spirits and high-jinx by putting lots of booze in our faces. This resulted in the one prize I did receive - this very impressive hangover. It feels as if a bergie took a bath in my mouth. Oh, LMG Pub Quiz, how I love you!

I get to present the questions for a category of my design the next time. Hold onto your knickers!

NGDG: "Where the hell is my new Tom Waits? This has ceased to be amusing, not that it ever was, but giddy anticipation confuses the emotive centres. Like being in a motel, wanting a late night cheese-burger, only to wake up next to a runaway from Poukeepsie called Maya."

Spread The Love. Click In The Box.