Bought a six pack of Irn Bru last night. Drank two last night. My dad's bird's son was off school today. I come home today chocking for a drink of My Irn Bru. The whole bus journey home i'm thinking "wow, can't wait to get home and have some of that Irn bru. It's been chilling in the fridge all day. This will be fucking magic". I open the fridge to find not one, not two, not three, but four of my Irn Bru's gone. The wee fucker walks through in a wife beater vest and his boxers, tin in hand, and says "My mom says you've to make me dinner" Took every once in my being not to hoof the wee b*****d in the baws.