Last night, Simon and John came round for the evening. Since I moved to Weston, their visits have been rare. During the days of Newbridge Road, we would often visit Pizzarella on Chelsea Road for our evening takeaway. Shortly after I left my flat, the mad, but extremely good pizza maker, who ran Pizzarella, appeared to leave the pizza outlet. Whether this was in fear of bankruptcy, due to me moving away, I don’t know. I did order from there a couple of times since his departure, but sadly, it’s not been quite the same.

Claire and I tried Dominos, which was OK, although the dough is a bit funny. Then we moved onto Pizza Hut. Again, the pizza was nice, but often delivered in a less from satisfactory standard – most recently resembling a nappy. I was introduced to Papa John’s Pizza by a former work colleague. While a little sceptical at first, as soon as I tried the pizza, I was hooked. It was amazing. What’s more, is they always seem to have a deal, along with offering loyalty points, so more often than not, I find myself with a free, or vastly reduced, pizza.

It was at my house yesterday evening that Simon and John lost their Papa John’s virginity. The fact they ate it all and didn’t vomit shows they must have enjoyed it. We ate outside, which was nice at first, given the heat from the longest day of the year; although I got a little scared when a seagull started hovering above our heads. Clearly this bird liked pizza too and looked like it was either going to dive bomb us and steal half a large double peperoni or shit on us.

The seagull led us to discuss science, mainly what would happen if humans could fly. The talk of selected breeding was raised, with an idea of breeding humans with webbed hands until, over thousands of years, they developed wings and the ability to take flight. Simon proposed that humans should also be bred to grow gills so they could dive to the bottom of the deepest of oceans, but that would be silly – they would, of course, be eaten by sharks and jellyfish.

When the pizza had been eaten and talks of producing a master race came to an end, we packed up the garden chairs and went indoors. I showed Simon the new episode of Friday Night Dinner, which we all enjoyed immensely, before we all picked another item of TV to watch, which was enjoyed, but not quite as much – mainly due to the fact I was growing increasingly tired. Simon made a wise choice of One Foot in the Grave, I picked Peep Show, while John went for Brass Eye. A little known one off series from Channel 4. These are all from DVDs I own and have paid for with my own money, so it’s not like I could really complain about disliking any of them.

John also broke the major news that he was moving out of his cottage in Marshfield and returning to his canal boat to live. Sadly, this means no more barbecues in the back garden or Bomberman sessions on his big TV. The return to the boat will, however, mean barbecues on a towpath and me watching Simon and John dispose of dead, bloated and drowned badgers (see an old blog from 2010).