Elks Blood

I'm disappointed to find out that Jagermeister doesn't actually contain Elks blood. It would have explained why my mouth tasted like a deers bottom this morning, as I staggered out of bed grunting and looking like Mr Burns. At least there are a few benefits. Never again will I utter the words "Let's start the evening off with a few shots of Jagermeister." It screws with your legs that stuff - at least that's my excuse, as I spent the rest of last night walking around like Douglas Bader with a severe woodworm infestation.

Of course, the end result is that today has been wiped out, with my good intentions of firing off a few Classic Rock reviews exchanged for a few packets of "Resolve". I might try and get hold of Paul McKenna to see if he can hypnotise me so that in future, whenever I try to order a Jager at the bar, I actually ask for a half of Top Deck Shandy with a lemonade top . . .