Tony has been in a very strange mood today, and this morning I thought that he was bordering on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Not even a couple of double cheeseburgers and ice cold lagers could cheer him up this lunch-time, and although he now seems to have got over his bout of depression, I've decided to keep a close eye on him over the next few days.
It seems that he's frustrated by the lack of sex in his life, and after discussing the matter in-depth whilst dining on the finest burgers our money can buy, he announced that he hasn't had a single sexual encounter throughout the whole of 2010.
Of course, I told the boy that sex isn't everything, but if he wanted to change things, perhaps he should start by losing a few pounds (twenty would be a good start), cut back on the drink and cigarettes, and learn to moderate his language, especially when he's trying to woo the ladies.
He looked at me and said that he can't do anything about his bad language, because he says that he suffers from a medical disorder, which means that he swears when there's no real reason to do so. He then added that he's more than happy with his weight, and that if potential girlfriends are put off by his disgustingly overweight body, then it shows just how shallow people really are, because as he added, behind the blubber, there's an eighteen carat heart of gold. Finally, it's out of the question that he cuts back on the drink and cigarettes, which he says are the only things, apart from Arsenal football club, which keep him going.
In the end I agreed with him, and said that women would only get in the way of him enjoying himself.
We're now off to the pub to end another glorious week of idleness, where we look forward to getting completely hammered, and upsetting a few non-English passers-by!