Napalm death

You would have thought that, by now, I’d have learnt my lesson. Learnt from my mistakes. But no. Regardless of the warnings on the box and the number of times I’ve suffered extreme pain as a result of ignoring them, when drunk I remain completely unable to resist biting into a slice of takeaway pizza as soon as it emerges from the ovens to be delivered into my hands. I swear that freshly baked pizza cheese is just like napalm – it clings to your tongue and the roof of your mouth, burning away the flesh until you can’t taste anything at all. The following morning not only are you considerably lighter in the cash department, but you also feel as though you’ve undergone particularly intensive oral surgery. Ouch.