We're watching Jailhouse Rock and dyeing our hair black like Elvis, an old drinking mate phones to say. But, feeling like she should be wearing a black armband, our LASS is seeking an ALTERNATIVE ROUTE to the DRUG CULTURE considers drinking Black and tan with her( no black leb involved whatsoever) dancing to Black Box's Ride on Time over and over till they black out in the morning black circles under her eyes feeling like she's got the Black Death. Instead swaps black pudding for black cohosh, returns to sketching in black ink, only reverts to Black Friday retail therapy if someone at work gives her a black look. But at the Black Horse she's very rarely in the black, otherwise might research a black market skinny jab. If only he would buy her a black diamond engagement ring.