ronmalibu

Some bloke lived in a barrel. Someone said that life is pain. Eighty quid for a bottle of unbranded vodka – that’s pain. I’m glad I left ‘early’ to pass out without picking up the bill.

The morning arrived with a spin and a blur, and before thoughts of proceeding home in an orderly mid morning fashion had fully formulated, others roused in the household in which Ron had gained consciousness. The previous evening’s half-baked notion that clogging arteries with a Full English (breakfast that is – not a gram of

Well, this reporter sure feels that it’s more of a hotdog and beer extravaganza, which people turn up to while they wait for a fight to happen. “Blood on the ice!”, plead the crowd when the simmering clear-sided saucepan of stubble and helmets boils into a frothing fracas. And under such circumstances, rather like a