The boy Tony has just returned from the bank, and has announced that tonight's trip to the pub is off, as are this lunchtime's cheeseburgers. The reason for the change of plan is that we are both broke, and what's more, the cash machine gobbled up his cash card, and told him to call into the bank and speak with his personal advisor, as a matter of urgency. Needless to say, he's not a happy boy.
I've been on the phone to the unemployment benefit office, telling them that we're in a desperate situation, and can we have an advance on our unemployment benefit. The reply was a resounding NO! We've now got to go a whole week without cash, and as the boy rightly says, it's going to be hard.
I reckon Tony might resort to a bit of pickpocketing to make ends meet, because as he says, a week without food is just about possible (even if we were relishing the thought of tucking into our first cheeseburgers of the year), but a week without lager, cigarettes and whisky - well that's just fucking impossible!
Oh Lord. It's a new year, but our problems are already mounting.