One day soon I’m going to have to become a responsible adult. Settling down with a house will become the priority, choosing furniture and tiles will become my de rigeur weekend activity. I’ll have to put my plans for a Mercedes diesel powered Reliant Scimitar, or that night-club-owner-in-1986 spec C4 Corvette Convertible (red with white leather…) , even more on hold than they already are.
And then one day, depending on the potency of my loins and whether my other half is still willing to come anywhere near me without revulsion, I might end up rearing an offspring. It'll hopefully be a small scale operation, we certainly won’t be on a quest to repopulate Essex. But fertility is a funny thing, if sprogs keep popping out I might find myself having to make a terrible, terminal life decision.
I may end up needing a minivan.
