Yes. Believe it.

I couldn't believe it last night. I can hardly believe it this morning.
Duck, pineapple and squid.
I'm going to say it again, hold the sick bag a bit closer.
Duck, pineapple and squeugh. Sorry, something came up then.

What a toxic threesome.
Like Charles, Diana and Camilla, or Stock, Aitken and Waterman.

Poor Marcus.
Suddenly possessed by the tastebuds of a mad, drunk Mr Mangetout he magnificently blew his excellent chances of going through to the semis of Professional Masterchef.

I hope he never opens his own restaurant.
Imagine the menu:
Elk bollock, Maltesers and Harpsichord.
Newt, Meringue and Wetwipe.
Masking tape, Boiled egg with just a touch of toothpaste.

And that's just for starters.
Ha! I'm on fucking fire this morning.

Someone put me out.
No, really, someone help me.