Sunday, September 21, 2003
Pieces of Trash
I am a single man, living alone in a central London shoe-box, the decor of which can best be described as minimalist.
I seldom entertain or cook at home, partly because the act of boiling an egg gives me an anxiety attack, but mainly because Soho does it better, and the waiters are prettier.
On the rare occasions when I do "invite somebody back", I usually resist the temptation to dismember them, and chuck their body parts out in the morning.
So why is it that, every single week, I still seem to get through at the very least four over-stuffed black bin-liners? What do I put in them?