59.2% of Warming Up readers are between 18 and 29. 39.36% of you fall into my own 30-45 age bracket. It's still just two readers under 18 (0.32%) and a mere seven over 45(1.12%) and I'm guessing that two of those are my mum and dad. So I guess that means that Warming Up is an advertiser's dream. All those spend-thrift under 30s all waiting to hear what deodarant I use, or which beer I drink or what pizza I prefer. If I was a coke-fuelled advertising executive I would be desperate to get my products promoted on here. I would probably send this "Richard Herring" bags of cash in return for a simple mention of the rubbish I was trying to flog. But don't worry kids, I, Richard Herring, will never sell out. I am unbuyable and uncorruptable, from my Paul Smith shoes to my Toni and Guy hair-cut, via my Budvar and Domino's pizza created bulging stomach.
Seriously though if anyone wants their stuff promoted on here in return for loads of money do get in touch. I need the cash and I am aware that my media-savvy readership are too sophisticated and intelligent to fall for anything so obvious (apart from the ones who enjoyed that thing about tissue paper being flushed down the toilet and the graffiti thing). So we're all winners!
"I like [YOUR COMPANY'S NAME HERE] and think you should like it to." Think about it.
A bird crapped on my car overnight. Divine judgement or uncanny coincidence. I just hope some criminal or other runs into me again soon. You know as long as they are inexplicably insured and stupidly using their own car.
Over the last few weeks I've been slowly getting my life back on the straight and narrow after a year or so of hedonistic debauchery. I've cut right back on drinking, I've got back into exercise, I haven't dated 50 women in 50 consecutive nights for almost six months now and I've kicked my chocolate addiction into touch.
Until today when a so-called friend introduced me to a wonderful place that would make Homer Simpson fall into a fantastical reverie which would end up with him eating a bit of a barking chocolate dog. I was taken to Turnham Green Terrace to the most wonderful shop in the world - a shop dedicated entirely to expensive, high-grade chocolate. I have often walked down this street before, but the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before, mainly because I had never noticed this place and then had some truffles and the most potent and delicious hot chocolate drink that I have ever tasted.
Showing me this place was like taking a recovering heroin addict to Smacks-R-Us or Drugs-U-Like. Everything in the shop was made out of chocolate, possibly even the very fabric of the building itself. It took me a while to notice, but even the pretty shop assistants behind the counter were crafted entirely from chocolate and were sophisticated cocoa based androids. I know, because I spent half an hour licking them. They pretended not to be made of chocolate and to get offended at my salivating over their faces and nibbling their arms, but I could taste the chocolate - they weren't fooling anyone.
I fully intend to spend the rest of my life in this shop - you can sit in there drinking and eating chocolate until you burst in their tiny chocolate cafe (everything, the seats, the tables, even the mugs are all made from chocolate. Obviously your drink melts the cup and the hot burning chocolate falls all over your skin and onto the floor and then you have to lap up the chocolate and burning flesh mixture from the floor like the chocolate addicted dog you are. But it's OK, because the floor and all the dust and dirt upon it are also made from chocolate. So obviously that melts too and you fall down through to the next chocolate level, a bit like in Alien, but more chocolate-based).
You can already see the mind-bending effects that the chocolate has had upon me, so imagine what great surreal comedy I will create in this wondrous place. It beats the British Library into a chocked hat.
You can keep your cocaines and your cannabisses. Chocolate is legal and more effective and also has no harmful side-effects whatsoever.
Mmmmmmmm, chocolate.
