How do you do, Internet?

So. It’s finally happened. I’m talking to the Internet. How depressing. Although, not as depressing as talking to the drunk on the train, about his string of dates with a girl who works in his local butchers. His version of a meat feast almost turned me vegetarian; until I found out she grew her own. Now I’m left eating Farley’s rusks, and suffering from erectile dysfunction every time I visit Morrisons. Not that I want erections in the supermarket, that could cause me to make a rash decision when choosing between the lemon, or banana flavoured rusks.