Not Dead

In my university days, this would be the most common email subject I would use when conversing with my mother. Usually it was because I had forgotten to call her for around a month and was too drunk to call that day.

By usually, I mean "for the entire four years". Peter is a bad son.

However, as a little more detail than she used to get, if you saw two guys lying flat on their backs in the middle of Nottingham's Market Square at 03:00 one Saturday recent morning, you saw Peter O'Phile. It was SB's idea, but we worked together on the concept out over the course of an hour or so. Dumb fucks.

The two very different approaches to "guests" stumbling past were quite impressive too:

G: What are you doing lying on the floor?
SB: We're looking at the stars. Join us.
G: (Looks up and sees overcast sky) No.

G: What are you doing down there?
PO'P: Fuck off, cunt.

In fairness to SB's hippy approach, a couple of people did sit with us for a while. Until I got abusive, of course.

Proper post soon, I've been busy. This shit mountain won't build itself you know.