"A home made lasagne, a half dozen of your brownies, a grande Americano and a muffin." I am bargaining with My Canadian Friend.
"My Chilli Tomato Pasta, some Garlic Bread, an Americano and half a cookie".
"Hmm, make that a whole cookie and add a guarantee you'll save me twenty quid and get me the Bluetooth iPod Headphones when you go home next month."
"Deal!!!" she replies.

That explains why I went out on Friday night with a group of people I barely knew. I am already at the secret location which may or may not be a bar in Central Manchester, when the group arrive. We sit down in some extremely large leather sofas. There is a girl with exceptionally large breasts, so big in fact that if she didn't have such a wide base, she would probably fall over in high winds. Just as I start to be hypnotised by her cavernous cleavage, she has an epileptic fit. Thankfully her friends know what to do and she recovers quickly and heads to the bar for a Red Bull and Vodka.

When she returns, My Canadian Friend puts her arm around this girl and asks if she is ok. She still seems a bit woosy. My friend remarks about how nice the tattoo is on this girls shoulder. As if a bolt of lightening struck her, she sits up, wide awake and says "Well you should see the one on my breast!"

She pulls down her halter top and shows off her right breast to the entire bar. It has "Manchester" written around it. There are worse ways to permanently scar your body. I wonder if she'll think that it is really cool and hip, when she's 80, in a nursing home and lying in a bed soaked with her own urine.

I know my Kermit the Frog will look fantastic.