Life is like a box of chocolates

The inevitable happened last night.
Of course I was sitting in a bar and naturally I was getting drunk, so obviously I started talking to people.
"Yir Scotch thin?" they enquired.
"Well, technically I'm more like Guiness at this moment in time..."
"Na, a min, yir Scottish thin?"

One can only do so much to disguise one's accent, so eventually I agreed that I was Scottish, although technically, ofcourse, I'm not. But when drunk, one's usually best leaving the semantics out of things.

"And who yir gonna sipport thin?"
"I don't really care about football." I lied.
"I bit yir sipportin' anyone bit us!" they provoked
"Well, now you mention it. Yes." Lying is not my strongest point.

There's a moment when one really should say something and there's a moment when one would be best just shutting up. I really haven't mastered this thinnest of lines though.

"And I'll be supporting the French and the Germans too." I added, for no reason in particular.
To cut a long and tedious story short I eventually decided it was probably better for the peace between our two (or in my case three) lovely nations if I should vacate the bar...

It turned out, the next day, that the pub wasn't the only place I was going to have to vacate pre-maturely.
The girl who was putting me up asked if I could leave and stay in a youth hostel until I arranged my house.
Now, it struck me as rather weird; the day before I was still being encouraged to act like I was at home and use the computer to steal music...
Well, maybe she realised that I'm a drunk, or perhaps I smell too much. Or it could even be the fact that I was going to introduce her six year old son to the world of "The big Lebowski" and "Full Metal Jacket"...
Who knows? And I was too hungover to ask.

And off to Manchester I went to look for a hostel.
It's funny, but when you're looking for something you tend to go places you would never normally go.
I strolled all around the city centre where a mere sandwich will set you back about three pounds.
I wandered around the Arndale centre where the only toys you will see are pink and fashionable.
I ramble... on and on and on....

Well, to cut another tedious story short, I ended up wandering out of the actual centre to the sub centre (two blocks away, I have to be quite honest, but honestly I would normally have never walked that way) and I stumbled across a sandwich bar which sells fresh rolls at one pound a piece!
Not only that, but I tripped over a Gaming shop / club...and there's this great Star Wars fantasy battle game out here!

Karma is what karma does and eventually Forrest Gump is proven right. Life is like a box of chocolates.
But if that said box was in the Big Lebowski, it would have been:
The dude: "Fucking, hey man, life is like a box of fucking chocolates."
Walter: "Yeah. But they're your fucking chocolates dude..."

or if those chocolates were in Full Metal Jacket:
Gunnery seargent Hartman: "Get those fucking chocolates off my god damned gaming board Twinkle toes!"

Or if they were in Star Wars...etc. etc. etc.