brainsluice | weblog

Picture it. The morning after. Following the early morning lavatory trip, mad rush to the kitchen for a litre or five of water, and cursing yourself for smoking so much your lungs now feel like they've been through a cheesegrater, a nagging feeling starts to creep in. "Oh dear", you think, as the sudden realisation arrives. In your drunken post-party haze you've forgotten exactly what that bloke/blokess you snogged the night before actually looked like? So ... were they a minger or were they a minor deity? Put the pieces together here.
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