Our benevolent dictator Graybo has asked that we adopt a retirement theme, following Sir Alex Ferguson’s announcement that he’s retiring in order to drink all the vineyards dry.
So we’re setting out the chairs around the walls today; please get your zimmer frames and hobble to the bar. Drinks will be served before dinner; best choose something that goes well with cabbage.
I guess a glass of red wine begrudgingly raised to worth nemesis will do for me.
Oh yes, I like this theme. I will have a Slivovitz and Sanatogen Frappe please. And could I also have a side order of incontinence pads.
Yes. This is a theme I can relate to on many levels. Excellent suggestion from His Benevolence.
I’ll have nothing, cos I’m retiring from blogging.
I’d like a Dignitas, please. Here’s the recipe, according to Wikipedia:
“an oral dose of an antiemetic drug, followed approximately 1 hour later by a lethal overdose of powdered pentobarbital dissolved in a glass of water or fruit juice. If necessary, the drugs can be ingested via a drinking straw. The pentobarbital overdose depresses the central nervous system, causing the person to become drowsy and fall asleep within 5 minutes of drinking it. Anaesthesia progresses to coma as the person’s breathing becomes more shallow. Death is caused by respiratory arrest, which occurs within 30 minutes of ingesting the pentobarbital.”
So that, but with an umbrella in it, or something.
Bottoms up!
Hmmm, being a shy and retiring sort (Ha!) it’s going to be an absinthe and advocaat for me, please. I think we’ll call it a “Satan’s Balls” as oppose to a “Snowball”.
And if that doesn’t make my brain retire, nothing will.
“Cocktail parties in care homes help tackle loneliness”, says The Guardian, so I applaud this socially vital initiative.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2013/mar/28/cocktail-parties-care-homes-loneliness
Mine’s an Old Fashioned, please:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Fashioned
Sanatogen tonic wine for me please, being the only thing my strictly Methodist grandmother would ever drink. It isn’t alcoholic*, you see.
(*It is)
I’ll have a warm milk with a nip of brandy, as my tee-total grandmother is fond of when she can’t sleep.
Although if it puts me to sleep I may very soon be involuntarily retired from my work…
I’m glad that this suggestion has proven popular. I was also spurred by the news this week that retirement is bad for your health. Evidently, we should all work until we die – which, given the state of the economy and our pensions, we will probably have to do anyway. Unless Son And Heir becomes fabulously wealthy and decides to keep his parents in the manner they wish to become accustomed to. Unlikely.
Of course, once retired, we become the walking dead – so I’d like a Walking Dead, please and thank you (recipe here: http://is.gd/tRg9Gr).
Bucket of Port and Lemonade please
*nan face*
In honour of all the little old ladies, who seem to have disappeared from my life, I’ll have a small sherry, really small, because I only like sherry in soup.
My granddad would always drink whisky and lemonade, so I’ll have one of those and raise a glass to him. And hope that it will get rid of all the sneezing.
I’d like the rest of asta’s sherry, please. The bottle will do, no need for a glass. It’s been that kind of week.
Whisky Mac for me – apparently it’s an old man’s drink but I’ve always been partial to it.