Saturday, August 13, 2005

Houston, we are a go

He's checked in. Gone through security. He has his food vouchers. Yes, because there is no food being served on the eleven hour flight he has fifteen quid in food vouchers to spend anywhere in the airport. He was babbling something about buying wine gums. I have no idea what wine gums are, but given this is a man that considers a Diet Coke and a pack of small cheddars a substantial breakfast and thinks laughing cow cheese and butter on a bap (white roll) is haute cuisine, it can't be at all good. I also have no clue what cheddars are, but I am inferring they are a cheesy cracker processed product goldfish thingy that is guaranteed to cause heart disease and cancer of the pancreas. I told him that if he gets off the plane strung out on sugar I am going to be fucking pissed and to buy some proper food. He said he would. I don't trust him.

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