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Since I moved to London, I have on several occasions dashed to work and, half way through the morning, been told by someone that my flies are undone. Could be the early stages of Alzheimer's, I suppose. Could only be rampant exhibitionism if I was aware of the revelatory crotch situation.
When I was very short of cash recently, I spotted a particularly cheap and very large pack of Iams Cat Food in the supermarket and, although the cats seemed none too keen, times were tight and for several days I fed it to them and they just had to like it or starve. I realised why they weren't keen and it had been surprisingly cheap after about three days when I became aware of the picture of a dog on the front of the packet. *cheeks burn with shame*
Those are recent examples. If you have a week to spare, I'll tell you about all the other stuff. Like burning right through the top of the fridge with a boiling kettle. Melting the kitchen utensils while attempting to make toffee. Turning an expensive and treasured pair of leather boots into bombay duck when I decided to dry them out in the oven. Leaving the dog tied up outside a shop in the afternoon and not noticing till bedtime. Burning down a cornfield and setting fire to the kitchen (twice) and my folks' living room (but that only once). Numpty, me.
In short, you are not alone Kit-Cat. And, in any case, you should be cultivating an eccentric academic image, should you not? Don't you get classes in that at Oxbridge Academy? |
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