Warehouse operative Stephen Higgins yesterday revealed he’d be more than willing to ‘do that job where they pay you to spit out wine.’
“Wine tasting?” wingman and colleague Franny Lenihan said, as he concentrated on rolling another double, king sized joint.
“I’ve never been really big on wine anyway,” Higgins pointed out, “so it wouldn’t be a huge deal for me to spit it out. Plus, I hear the money’s pretty good?”
“Funny,” Lenihan smirked, as he sat back and lit up, “I always had you down as a swallower”.
“Boom, boom,” Higgins replied impassively, “see what I did there?”
The sound of a leaf blower starting up in the garden next door, made its way into the room, as Lenihan took two consecutive, life-threateningly long draws.
“Fucken Flanders,” he eventually moaned, taking a third brief toke before handing it over and opening an Erdinger Weissbier.
“Wine tasting or any of those other ‘beats working’ gigs,” Higgins murmured, as he raised the spliff.
He looked his friend’s way for validation, just as Lenihan pointed the remote at the TV.
“Lebowski?” he suggested, raising his eyebrows.
“That rug,” Higgins deadpanned, “really tied the room together.”