My coffee making machine is broken. This may sound like a minor problem in comparison to, say, testicular cancer, but allow me to explain. I am deeply in love with and commited to my caffiene habit. Coffee and cigarettes are the only constants in my existence - the only things in my life that get my heart nearly beating in the morning. In fact I am working on preserving my internal organs with a combination of boiling water, alcohol and smoke - something like a kipper/lab specimen. It could work, and at least I'm enjoying myself in the mean time. But I digress: Once I had completed the necessary ritual of shouting at it, pleading with it, crying, opening all the little doors and peering inside in broken hearted puzzlement, calling my husband to inform him that it was all his fault, hopping around the kitchen using all his best swear words, kicking the cat etc, I was forced to leave the house as I do try to be in the office on at least the right day, if not the right time. As this a was a full, code blue, sirens and screaming emergency I nipped into McDonalds for an fix on the way, shaking and sweating like Gary Glitter on parole at Disneyworld. What was served to me can only be described in my husband's best Scots accent - "p*ss-water". How the surly bespotted brat behind the counter managed to get coffee grounds into a liquid which was most definitely something other than coffee is entirely beyond me. It was bitter, thin, lukewarm (despite being served in a heatproof cup with "CAUTION, HOT!!" emblazoned on the side) and smelled of dust and burning knicker-elastic. Vile, ghastly, horrid and all stops between. I wouldn't pour it over a tramp, no matter how foul smelling. For the first time in my short but colourful life I was delighted to make it into the office - we have a Tassimo. Or we will, until it falls into my handbag on my way out this evening. So, arriving at my question in the most roundabout of ways - Where and when did you have your worst cuppa?