fish finger sandwiches.
King among foods and I fucking love them for any and every meal, and snacksies too.
Yet when I was up the stick, even the mere thought of a fish finger sandwich made me puke. Not just want to puke, but actually have to rush and paint the nearest toilet/dark corner with my stomach contents. I wouldn't even have to think about the taste or the smell. A picture of one would have me chucking.
You get my point.
Except nobody believed me how bad this was.
So we're sitting in the student union bar, me with a lemonade and my two friends with pints, and I mention this fact. As I say it, my stomach starts to grumble, but I push it out of my mind.
'No way.'
'Yes, really.'
'So if I were to talk about golden, crispy fish fingers, with two slices of fluffy white bread and a...'
Got the bastard's pint.
(and now for someone completely different, Thu 14 Jan 2010, 3:20, Reply)