It started with a few drinks...
Me and the ex got home pretty sloshed. Cue loads of mad sex and fumbling in the bedroom. (Mad sex = trying to maintain some semblance of an erection while the room dramatically spins in a kaleidoscope of colour). I passed out and woke the next day in a haze and stumbled through Sunday. She left that evening and the next few days sped by in a gluttonous mix of work and sleep.

The following Friday she was due back at my house so I decided to give my room a quick clean. Round the backside of my bed there was a narrow gap between the bed frame and the wall into which an occasional item of clothing would vanish. I craned my head to inspect for awol boxer shorts and the like and was unpleasantly surprised by a half a pint glass filled with a lumpy liquid.

I picked it up and through some perverse desire gave it a whiff only to be greeted by the delicious aroma of old sick. So I called up the missus to ask her what the fuck was going on.

'Did you throw up in a pint glass and leave it behind my bed?'
'Err, sorry. I meant to tell you about that'.
'When were planning to tell me?'
'When I remembered'.
'Oh I see, so basically never then..'
'Look on the bright side. At least I didn't puke in your bed!'
'You're a keeper you are. A real gem'.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Thu 7 Jan 2010, 18:58, Reply)