Monthly Archives: August 2011

Needlessly formal chat up lines.

“Hello. You appear to be visually stimulating, to the point which it is largely alluring to me. The elegant turn of your head brings to mind the melliflous and chaotic majesty of a choir of songbiirds. Would you perhaps enjoy … Continue reading

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There is a rather irritatingly presumptuous status update on Facebook doing the rounds currently. It says “No matter how cynical you are, if a toddler offers you their ringing phone, you answer it.” Now, I sort of agree with this, … Continue reading

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Smashed family heirlooms.

“Son…………………” “Yes, dad?” “You’re….my son………my only…beloved son….” “Thanks dad….” “I think…now is the time…” “………really?” “Yes…it’s about right……that I now give you…..my collection of antique painted ducks…they’re so old and rare that nobody has seen them for years…and they’re priceless…..” … Continue reading

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This is some shit about sex. Move along.

Every lightness of touch, every sensual gesture, ever gleam of a sunlit cloud at that edge of night and day reminds me of you, the illustrious thrill of hammering rain, the tribal feet of my heart dancing with my gut, … Continue reading

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Cooking.

A staff meeting on Thursday is the balloon full of piss on the horizon. It is not going to be fun. I am fairly certain that at some point in the next month, I shall be leaving the pub. Either … Continue reading

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He’s orange, he’s big, he’s a fucking burning prick, MAJORIS.

Football chant about Canis Majoris. Canis Majoris, Full of hot piss, you might be the biggest star, but you don’t own a fucking car, you massive orange prick.

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