So, here we are yet again, and all I can say is, three weeks in to taking on this job, thank god I didn’t decide to do “Dry January”. Not that I am a big drinker, you understand, but recently I’ve found great comfort in the early morning Fat Lady Stout, the mid-morning Craft Ram, the lunchtime Detention, the afternoon Ruck & Maul and the evening Mad Dogs & Englishmen to keep my creative juices flowing…You see, while Southern softies sip on prosecco, here in The Red Rose County we like our drink as we like our men, full-bodied. Not that all this boozing is doing much for my figure; luckily I have a back-up plan, “The Busty Diet, in association with, yes, you guessed it, Pornhub”, of course.
Thing is, us Lancashire girls are made of stern stuff…as old McKelvey found out last weekend. It transpired that he hadn’t done a runner after all as, no sooner had I filed last week’s column, than there was a knock at the door and there he was in all his glory, clutching an Old Man Ale (very fitting for a fella of his years).
That’s right, the new boss had left the Southern Softies to come up North to see how the Foxy and Roxy show was shaping up. You may recall that back in the day, Busty was dispatched up here to investigate the possibility of setting up an office in Blackburn and, it seems, my esteemed editor was slightly jealous of the grand time she had.
We showed him the sights and we even visited the Metropolitan Borough of Bolton as he was particularly keen to try the local delicacy of the pasty barm, a pasty in a giant bread muffin. Genius.
Of course, everything up here is super-sized – I don’t just mean the portions – and I’m not too sure he is used to putting so much in his mouth at once but I must admit he made a good fist of it.
Anyway, a proper reet good time was had by all and we sent him on his way with a luscious Lytham Blonde, although as the saying goes “he was only being friendly”…
