Like me with Pastrami - I absolutely love it. The smell, the taste, even the way it looks on the sandwhich. Yumm...

Around three hours later I inevitably have to spend the rest of the day talking to God on the great white telephone.

Why do you do things like that to me, Oh Lord? I mean, I know Rob and the naughty Hugo made you wait in the queue like everyone else, but you got yours in the end, didn't you? I mean, why put Pastrami on this earth for me and then punish my weakness when I want to eat it? Why, why?