And lo, it came to pass, that that letter was printed in the Metro. And Londoners saw that it was good.
And they put a picture of a butcher holding up some sausages! How. Cool. Is. That?
Excitement mounts between me and a couple of friends who now want to make a day of it. Matt wants to dress up as a butcher and stage a piece of performance art. I want to get drunk and scream "WHY SO HIGH, MEEESTER BLAINE? IS LAND TOO HOT FOR FEETSIES?" Suggestions of sausage costumes are put forward, although a brief web search only produces these, which quite frankly are shit.
Costumes aside, the day could be a whole bunch of stupid, harmless fun.
Later on in the night, I am called by a friend who tells me that the letter was featured on Liquid News. At that point, I began to scratch my chin in a really thoughtful and sexy way.