Dangerous food

"I'd like the fried cheese in breadcrumbs with a side order of dumplings please."

The waitress at the Czech and Slovak Club in West Hampstead looked at me askance. "Are you sure?" she said. "That's very… are you sure you want that?"

What? It's fat and bread. No different from a pizza, in my opinion. "Yes," I assured her. "I know what I'm doing."

And damn fine it was too. And so was the beer. As evidenced by the number of typos as I tippytap this post out. I'm not afraid of my liver function, dear readers, but only of my skin disasters (does anyone else get huge spots after they've been drinking? One more session and I'll look like a plague victim).

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