Over the past few weeks I've written a few articles for the Independent. One of the best bits about writing them has been my Dad's response when I've emailed them over to him. Here's the headlines of the articles, followed by what he has to say:
Strangely just finished some chocolate ten minutes before I read this. Any chance of them doing a study on real ale and commissioning me? Think they could send me to the Lake District for a month to sample the pubs there.
I agree that nightclubs are bad enough when you're drunk, I can't imagine anyone staying more than five minutes in one of those dives when your sense of smell, eyes and ears are connected to your brain efficiently.
My excuse for going home early from company outings is that I have to drive and refuse to spend any time in the company of drunks when I'm sober. The buggers are tedious enough when the haven't had a drink. After two shandies they turn into bloody twelve-year-olds.
Oh dear, you're a chip off the old block aren't you? It looks like something I would write, but I'd probably be a bit more blunt, like 'hell is other people'. There was an email at work the other day to announce the Christmas party and I groaned out loud and said I would rather break my leg. An X factor themed party in Sheffield with a 100 pissed twenty-year-olds. Ugh!