I did it! Despite the fact that there were twenty types of pizza on the menu, including one all-meat affair that is basically my idea of pizza heaven (I don't like to have vegetables on pizzas, I don't like to be eating anything on a pizza that might plausibly be doing me some good), and despite the fact that there wasn't anything else on the menu that I particularly fancied, I resisted temptation and ordered something else. A burger, since you ask. Now, I don't normally like burgers, but this one was absolutely orgasmic. Which means that, in the short-term, I need to make sure I don't get addicted to burgers too. Because I think that, when it comes to the major junk-food groups, I'm a bit like Pete Doherty. One day I'm sure I'll be stopped by the police, driving erratically on the wrong side of the road at 6.30 in East London, and they'll find a Filet-O-Fish, some KFC popcorn chicken and a meatball Subway in my glove compartment.
For the moment though, I have passed the first test of my willpower with vaguely flying colours. They even had pizza ON THE DESSERT MENU, for heaven's sake! A dessert pizza! Are you trying to test me, o Lord? Because if you are, bring it on, you beardy cunt. I don't believe in your existence anyway.
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