Mousse on the loose

Gentleman and those few ladies out there. I give you...

A Ferrari F430 Spider. Now this is a car. A 4litre V8, it's enough to make your teeth rattle. I spotted it parked outside the gym this evening.

Driving this car would be like... Okay, do you see this guy?

Imagine him walking up to you and saying, "I want you to take me back to your place and I want you to take advantage of me in every way you know possible..."

That, my pretties, is what driving an F430 is like. I would sell my body and lick the dirt off a beggar's balls to own one.

Seeing machines like that makes me very sad. The longing and yearning I feel cannot be described in words. So I won't try.

Speaking of things that give you a party in your panties, can we please look at this...

Before we leap into the chocolate pudding please can we note one thing.

Please look at the doodle on the paper on the right. See, a lot of planning, design and time went into the thing you're reading now. Well, a scribble at least. The drawing is not planted, I promise.

Anyway, so the chocolate pudding. Imagine cold, smooth and rich chocolate, against the roof of your mouth. Then look at this...

It's like fucking food porn. I am going to have to limit myself to one a week.

I had it because as we know, today I was celebrating my Not Birthday. And what a wonderful day it was, thanks for asking.

This birthday was a test-run for the main event which begins on Saturday at Heathrow airport (that's when I fly to Seth Efrika).

On my Not Birthday I took the Central Line to work, going in a little later than normal the carriage was completely empty. So I sang Happy Birthday to myself between Lancaster Gate and Queensway.

I told colleagues about my decision to shift my birthday and bought them a box of mini chocolates to celebrate my coming of age. "No cards please."

They dived into the chocolates but not before I could salvage four little treats. Greedy bastards. (That's only a joke of course, in case one of them ever finds this...) Guys, I love you all and you all know that.

Idiots.

After my four treats I scoffed the chocolate mousse. And then went for a walk to the shop and wandered around the building and read a newspaper and went to the newsagent again and paged through some magazines and - I did fuck all.

This evening at the gym I did some cardio and abs to work off the chocolate.

So my Not Birthday has been a great day. But not as good as some poor fucker's on the Jubilee Line this evening.

He was quite drunk and kept falling asleep while standing up because there wasn't a seat. Every time he was about to drift off, his grip would loosen on the bars above and he'd fall forward and wake up.

If only I had a Ferrari I would have offered him a lift. He was fit. "Come to daddy, boy... hurr, hurr..." Actually, that's something I've never seen or been involved in.

I'm sure the Tube is hugely cruisey. I'm just so bad at it and don't usually notice anyone else. Let along anyone trying to make the moves. It must happen though. Especially when it's so packed.

Oh yeah, so I pulled out the suitcase to start packing and I found a Tesco bag pull of pens. New pens, unused pens, ball-points, ink pens, fountain and highlighters.

I dunno, I guess someday I might need a pen.

?!