Dill Tries Horlicks

We had a visit from a guy the other night. He's a shy fellow so I won't disclose his real name, I'll call him Dill. Dill's a great guy but he's got his quirks. He doesn't fall asleep to serene music or whale sounds like any normal person would, no, he likes to listen to repetitive white noise, like the sound of an electric drill, or the fuzziness of a T.V.

He was round playing a bit of geetar with Jakers. He's very good and we've told him he'd make an excellent teacher but he's negative about everything. And I mean everything. The only thing that makes Diil truly happy is food. He's a big lad at 6 foot eight and so he needs a lot of grub. He once ate so much at a Chinese all you can eat buffet that he was actually sick.

He was offered a cup of tea and a Curly Wurly at first and then later I wanted Horlicks and we gave him some of that too. He'd never had it before and thought it was maybe some kind of class A drug. We told him it was what old granny's drink before they go to bed. At first he liked it. He felt enveloped in the warm milky, malty goodness. But then he got half way through it and decided it was like drinking baby boke. Yeah, if baby's stomachs were lined with malt, which they're not. Anyway, I didn't let it put me off mine though.