I was in the bathroom cleaning vomit off a handgun* when the phone rang. I moved as quick as I could, but it took me a whole minute just to reattach my leg, and by the time I got to the living room it had stopped.
“You have a new message,” said the answerphone in it’s perfect Stephen Hawking imitation.
“Thanks! You too!” I cried before falling over, hitting my head on the radiator with the ferocity of a Bengal tiger. Luckily the alcohol cushioned my fall.
“Don’t drink gin on an empty stomach,” Stephen Hawking advised me just before I passed out. Which is easier said than done, especially if you’ve just had a gastric band fitted.
*A Beretta 92FS with a custom grip.