Please do not feed the foreigners
Tonight, my friends and I will celebrate our decadence by dressing in hoodies and sweatpants, driving to the local purveyor of fried chicken (I believe the owner is a military man), and, once established with our meals, we will wash them down with 40 ounces of the finest malt liquor $2.41 can buy.
And in honor of the whizz-bang interactive digital world we live in, I am giving YOU, my readers, the ability to influence my life. That's right, I am inviting all of you to weigh in on that most serious question: "What should the Englishman buy from KFC tonight?"