Good evening listeners,
With great regret, your regularly scheduled session of sweary audio brilliance has once again been thwarted by the folks that...
Now, I'm not 100% certain. Daz explained this to me once. Hang on... they pipe our show down Internet tubes, via China, into the hearts and minds of the wisest and most handsome people on the earth?.. Is that what they do? Something about servers? Like Butlers or Waiters I guess?
Anyway, they're shut for the night because Gary, from finance in the building up the road, sneezed and now they all have to sanitise their hands like they've just leafed through a Nigella Lawson cookbook, found the recipe for seductively succulent tiramisu with a waft of marzipan and discovered that the pages were sticky...
...with someone's spooge.
So there will be no show this evening. That mixed with the fact that the member of your team of dedicated podcasting professionals responsible for publishing tonight's gala show of sweary high jinks has spent the last three hours pressing refresh whilst slowly getting "quite, quite cunted" on delicious BrewDog, only promotes the thinking that sometimes it is better to admit defeat and go with the boozy flow.
And so, we will attempt to make contact with the sweaty buggers in the U.S tomorrow and ensure that you enjoy your regular dose of drinky sweary goodness but only a mere day later than usual!
Please accept your regular emergency ration of "The-show-is-going-to-be-a-day-late Mexicans" in way of an apology:
Many thanks.
C.J 'I'm a horse of course!' Hixon
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