How drunk will Verne be tommorrow?

i wish he would drink so much he would pass out. i hate that fat arse- worst mainstream commentator in history.

Day breaks. Glint of shiny flask on the hotel-room breakfast table catches his eye. He undresses the bottle with his eyes and, alert for a second (not unlike Miles in the famous Let er rip, pre-game interview), a montage flickers through his mind of the love he will make with the bottle, his head thrown back with the warmth of her in his body -- two, three, nine times. And then with no audience in the room, he delivers the inevitable line, "How...do you do?"