Desire in Destitute Britain

Where were you Friday night? 

I'm a homicide detective. 

This is my partner, Prudence. 

We're investigating the rather

tragic death of your Savings Account. 

Sort code. RR-II-PP. 

Does this look familiar to you? 

Exhibit A - a receipt from Deliveroo. 

You f*****g ordered the takeout. 

Didn't you! 

Admit it! 

Confess, you son of a b***h! 

After a very brief period of

strangulation complimented 

with interrogation, I yielded. 

The officer and I made sweet 

love on a bed of napkins and 

chopsticks. 

She said she still tasted the

exotic spices on my tongue...

the aforementioned tongue

being down her throat and all. 

She certainly knew her way

round my Udon noodle, 

if you know what I mean,

Fellas. 

I am the culprit. They found me

with smoking gun, having fun,

drinking a 0 alcohol Peroni - 

promise I'm sober... 

this isn't all baloney. 

Seriously though, like when did

all this s**t get so expensive? 

Every time I order I'm apprehensive. 

Kats-ooh becomes Kats-booooo

when I check my online banking. 

Better skip the condoms tonight dear,

they're kinda pricey, I'm better off wanking.