Own Goal

I trundled along to The George yesterday for a quick lunch with my mates Poshy & Gazza. Gazza slipped away at 1.30pm for a meeting. Poshy and I figured we'd hang around for just one more drink.

At about 7pm I staggered back to the office to collect my stuff and take advantage of the conveniently nearby toilets to throw up.

But never mind all that!

Earlier in the arvo, Gazza made us smell his arm. (Mercifully he didn't ask us to pull his finger.) He was wearing a David Beckham cologne. Why choose that particular cologne? Because it's a David Beckham cologne! I asked Gazza if he was a big DB fan.

"Hell, yeah," he said. "Who wouldn't be? The man's cool, good-looking and incredibly rich."

Gazza's been going through a rough patch lately and after he said that he looked vaguely morose.

I patted him on the shoulder. "Cheer up! Just think, one day you could be rich!"

I meant it as a compliment but, oddly enough, he took it as an insult. Just goes to show how wrong you can be.