With booze, I have a functioning off-switch. With food I have no off-switch at all, as I learned one gluttonous evening in Salt Lake City
There’s a Twitter account called Fake Showbiz News that is occasionally kind/cruel enough to feature me as the subject of one its “exclusives”. Even if there’s an unpleasant undertone to the story, I’m at the stage in my “showbiz” career that, pitiably, I can’t help being grateful for any sign that I’ve not been forgotten. This week’s offering was so close to the truth that I didn’t know whether to wince, laugh or cry: “Adrian Chiles ordered to leave bottomless brunch following ‘misunderstanding’.”
The ring of truth here has aggravated my tinnitus. I’ve never been to a bottomless brunch but, if I had, there would indeed have been the chance of a misunderstanding, as until now I didn’t realise the “bottomless” refers to the booze not the food. Though I can put far too much alcohol away from time to time, unlimited food will always cause me more problems. Unlike many excessive drinkers, with booze I have a functioning off-switch; with food I have no off-switch at all.
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