I’ll be honest. I had a MacDonalds last night. It wasn’t good as I knew you were thinking it wouldn’t.

It reminds you very quickly why you loathed it in the first place, the minute your slathering chops wrap round wet burger and luminous orange cheese. This particular branch had mirrors everywhere. I cannot think why you’d want to watch yourself.

Which is why i’ve decided, through much thinking and chewing, that the best analagy for MacDonalds is a bad wank. Because even though you’re slightly looking forward to the guilty pleasure, it’s thoroughly dissapointing, the feeling of self-loathing is abundant, and as you finish your last handful you really wish you hadn’t bothered.

Much love,

T x


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