I had a few snifters with my agent, Bernie Shimshelwitz, down the Rabbit and Ladder last night. After the fourth Sea Breeze, old Bernie gets a bit maudlin. He reckons he’s got the blues what with me, his best client, not working in months and Mrs S giving him earache about the loft conversion, not to mention his rash. And Brendan the landlord didn’t help matters when he called in Bernie’s bar tab, which using a bizarre drunken agent logic, Bernie tries to get me to pay 10% of. I paid it an’ all, soft touch that I am. Here’s fingers crossed for the male grey hair concealer commercial I’m waiting on, ‘Just for Twats’ or whatever it’s called.
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