Was meant to be living frugally and doing freelance. Was sat at desk, attempting freelance, hours after a work. An evil Alan whispered sweet nothings in my ear, and I found myself whisked away in a Jag to a land of chips, pie and poker, where I lost all my money and had my allergies tested by a team of yapping puppies.

Now I’m in debt, full of freelance and fat. But oddly happier.

Argue with me