Cleaned myself: 0
Monkey see, monkey do: lost appetite
Tics: wait til I tell you
Believe in God? No chance
The final league tables are through. I went to collect mine at the Telegraph Office, and pass it on here for those of you who are beyond the reach of the telegraph poles. Nice thought that, isn’t it?
Mr Roger Hunter has now met, and seems to approve of his daughter’s fiancée. He did that knowing, nudge-nudge, ‘what have you been up to then?’ thing, like I was red blooded male like him, who went out and got himself a bird. A bird? Like the one out of Sesame Street in my case; one that came with a trophy out of a catalogue in his.
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