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Oh sweet, sweet death.
Well, just think.
No more government, no more bills. No more novels to do with being a Thirty-ish bloke who's just into his football, and struggling a bit with trying to make a committment, ( though he does in the end, ) no more fucking TV about home improvements, about the garden and so on, about boiling a bastard egg.
There must, and shall be, an end to this pain.
So I thought I'd do the following.
Hire a car ( you know, something quite classy, ideally one of those funky stretch limos you'd maybe get for your stag do, so you and your pals can swing through the city like you're stars for a day... god, those are great, ) and then see about lighting it, and then driving that fella off the white cliffs of Dover with " Now That We've Found Love ( What Are We Gonna Do ? ) by Heavy D And The Boyz on repeat on the stereo.
But if anyone's got any better suggestions...
I've got a few hours left. |
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