This morning I had probably one of the worst feelings ever. It’s especially bad when you’ve got an entire day at work ahead of you. It all began last night after I came back from the Balti house. Getting ready for bed I noticed that there was something missing, something that you desperately need following a big Balti curry with spinach, garlic naan and several other spicy side-orders.
Toothpaste.
There was none in the house. Emily had borrowed our last remaining tube as she was stopping in London after the Madonna gig. To be truthful I wasn’t all that bothered about it last night, mainly because I had very little in the way of taste-buds left. Curry tends to do that to you.
But this morning.. Ooooooooooo boy… Blimey. Every part of me wished I’d driven 10 miles to the 24-hour shop and got some toothpaste – or at the very least some drain-cleaner last night. I stunk. I really smelt bad. You know it’s bad when you catch a woff of your own breath and think “Jeez.. .that stinks like old socks”. It hums. It