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[24 Nov 2004|08:39am] |
I read...nothing last night. I did however sit at the bar whilst the chavs smashed a window in the village hall and scarpered, another conquest complete.
Well done, you oily little berks. The reverberations will truly be felt in all society.
Whilst knocking back five pints, I saw people come and go, Stuart and Bolb among them. Only B could reclassify cat George as a French cat, without realising that our now resident Frenchman......whose name is also George, was standing at the bar as she shouted this. She didn't even know his name was George.
Great news.
Apart from all this, there is nothing new.
Why do we doubt? I don't know...liquer forces introspection. Words seep back from mouth to heart; and it does us little good. I will not any longer.
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[24 Nov 2004|10:46am] |
Get your lovely planetary disasters here, ladeeeeez an' gentlemen...we've got collisions, asteroid impactions, and rogue comets.
Get Justin Timberlake in here, he loves messing about with planets. To combat seething discontent, I am writing about rocky whores. Sling them out of my universe, lest I have them ejected along with that trashy cosmic space rubbish.
To date, there have been ten planets discovered. Some are new, some are old as space. All are slags. All of 'em. All. No question. Saturn just got herself more rings. Where did she get the money for those then? Some kind of racket going on up there.
And the moons...big as planets, some of them. PLANETS! Fucking planet sized cunts.
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