Roses are dead / Violets are too / Cards are printed on dead wood / Valentines is poo

So here we are, Singles Night at Bar Uborka (Ubarka?)  We’d thought about an Al Capone theme-night, but I couldn’t think of the right rhymes.

Anywayyyyy.

Sevitz (the Birthday Boy) is after an Old Fashioned, which is being served alongside the Grumpy Old Man that Asta bought for him.

Pockless is on pints (although he didn’t specify the drink, so it could just be water – who knows?) while writing ropy rhymes around the entire Valentine’s Day phenomenon. I think he’d be better off sticking to illustrations, to be honest.

Karen’s drinking Perfect Storms, and graybo‘s been writing about them while drinking dry martinis (the only dry thing around here at the moment) and stealing sentiments from cartoons in the Telegraph. Shocking behaviour all round.

And speaking of shocking, Asta has asked for a stiffy between the sheets. Which is appropriate to the day, I suppose, if not the family nature of this ‘ere blog. Disgraceful wench that she is.

Meanwhile, Gammidgy disappeared into pandering to our questions about pandas while drinking another nondescript/nondefined pint. I suspect it should be a Panda Beer, but these things are never black and white.

Pigwotflies has asked for something chocolatey and rummy – although with her recently announced news, I’m not sure that rummy goes well with mummy at this moment in time. (Oh God, the rhyming, make it stop)

And I’m still drinking the old Kamikazes, so there may be a maudlin and sentimental rhyme at some point later on. I won’t guarantee it, because I may be too typed to piss – tell will time.

And that’s VD over with for another year. Next time take penicillin – it’s less painful than doing this stuff!