Seems like a good excuse.
Nanna Margaret didn't like the fact that I drank neat whisky. She said it would rot my liver. She knew this for a fact: she had worked in an off-licence and had been on a course where they put some cow's liver in a tumbler of whisky, and a few days later it had gone!
I wasn't falling for that one: Nanna Margaret had also told me that eating the crusts of my toast would make my hair curl.
Not that I ever wanted curly hair, you understand.
Postscript: Oops! Almost forgot to mention that it's also Bette Davis's centenary today.