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I can't go for walks because I'm scared. I can't bathe because the ceiling recently caved in after an overhead soil pipe ruptured, spraying the bathroom with Victorian wee-wee which had been backing up for well over a century. 'Orrible it was. (My cat was so upset, it died.) Anyway, the bath's currently full of brickdust and plaster. And sometimes, workmen.
But exercise is the answer. Short of banging my head against a wall, that's my only hope really, innit? (Though Mr I says we should develop all-consuming fetishes which distract us from the need for nicotine.... I'm still giving that some thought.)
So really, what inquiring minds want to know is whether Jesus wants you for a sandwich grill...
I'll hotten up The Lord's Holy Pop Tarts any time, He only has to ask... |
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