You know times is hard when...

you buy six sausages, and you make them last for two meals

i.e. sausage casserole Saturday night

(3 for him, two for me)

sausage soup made from the left-overs for  Sunday luncheon

(half the remaining sausage sliced into each bowl)

You use stone-ground organic bread wrappers

for picking up the dog poo.

(saving money on the flowery fragrant doggy-do bags)

You only order half a case of Bolly instead of the regular order of one (fib!)

You pretend you're saving trees, by not sending cards

(let's face it the email ones, just don't cut the mustard)

You make brawn instead of buying foie gras
(two fibs-
1.  I've only made it once, 
2.  I'd never buy foie gras)

You decide that, after you've filled half a land fill site with plastic
bottles, perhaps tap has a lot going for it after all!

You make the Sunday dinner organic, free-range,
lived a happy life 'til the old chip-chop chicken
last a week in one guise or another.

You never look at the travel sections of the papers

You look at horses in a whole new light!?!

Cancel your gym membership... isn't that a cult
following a man with a large todger?
The only muscles exercised are your lust muscles

Cheap cider holds you in a thrall

You learn to play the hurdy-gurdy
so passers by can show their appreciation

You re-ignite your relationship with the cobbler

and with the wooden mushroom languishing in the back of the drawer.

You let your subscription to fancy magazines lapse
(in the case of 'Country Living' especially, 
every cotton-picking feature now is flogging
something!)

You forego Lettice's line of lottery numbers... what?... 
Yes I'm afraid you heard right...
sad I know!
Now it's going up to two quid
(what a con!)
So I'll only do one line...
 the numbers I dreamt; that are forever engraved on my
soul... that's how strong the dream was.

Post a daily blog, it keeps you off the streets,
well that is until you've finally got a masters
in begging.