My drug shame

Sorry I haven't blogged for a bit. Stuff happened and, well, that's about it. Anyway, all's good now and all I can say is that they won't find the body - so we're all ok.

My lack of blogging meant I failed to share a story that I had published on the highly amusing www.b3ta.com site. They were asking for 'your drugs stories' and rather than the time I played 3 hours of 'loopin louie' whilst eating wagonwheels (you can draw your own conclusions) I went for a more wholesome tale. So I sent the below. It is utterly true btw, and I thought it was worth sharing.

When I first began driving I borrowed my mum's car a lot. Enjoying the freedom of the road I soon stocked up on indie compilation tapes and sweets and visited friends around the country.

One evening my mum came back from work and asked to sit down for a serious talk. She pulled out a small white tablet embossed with a letter on it and said to me, with tears in her eyes: "I found this in my car. I want you to answer me straight. Is this drugs?"

I took it off her, looked at it (I'd obviously dropped it in the car) and told her the truth in a calm tone of voice.

"No. It's a Smint."