From nose to wail

Some people like to go out on hot dates to hot restaurants, I like to sit in and weep about how I don't like change. But just like Fergus, I'm going to make sure I use up every last shred of my Cranston estate experience. Povo offal to some, but heart and lungs to us. And using up the kidneys too with how much we've drunk tonight.

Marky sent out the memo early this week that we were going to share a last supper at the flat. Apart from Jim (but what's new? Joke! Don't worry the chance of him reading this is as low as him changing his sheets), all the regulars gathered in the 'sitting room' to be served up a feast of goats cheese stuffed chicken breasts with roasted vegetables and boiled new potatoes.

Was an absolutely dream. When I went to fetch the quadruple chocolate loaf cake for pudding I have to confess I ran my finger over all the bowls and utensils and then stuck them in my mouth.

After that it all got a little shady. Last thing I remember was sobbing in the bath whilst eight people showered the strawberry sauce off me.

Would you like a Fran with your sauce?