Monthly Archives: February 2018

When Testicles Become Icicles

This is Britain. We do not fuss about changes to the weather. We do not panic when the Arctic drops its load on us like the finale of the worst snowman bukkake movie ever. We stoically carry on, all as … Continue reading

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Stone Cold Steve Harris

Let’s all do the Devonian cold weather dance. Poke your left leg to the west, bend your right buttock southwards, stick your finger up your nose and yell “Fuck I, it’s fair fuckin’ freezing!” That’s not a tradition, by the … Continue reading

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And Put Up A Parky Lot

Parky. A British term for coldness in the air. As in ‘fucking fuckety fuck but it’s a bit parky’. Often combined with sound ‘brrrr!’ and the exaggerated rubbing together of the hands. But why do we call it ‘parky’ when … Continue reading

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Five Ring Circus

How cruel of the International Olympic Committee not to extend the Winter Olympics for several more months. It’s not that I’m addicted to curling per se but what the fuck am I and my insomnia going to do in the … Continue reading

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And The Winner Is…

So here’s something I haven’t been able to say for three months: I win. I fucking win. Mwahahahahaha. I don’t win at breathing, that’s something I’m still not especially good at. But I do win at proving to the Department … Continue reading

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Careful Whisper

We must whisper. Speaking too loudly will spoil things. Softly, softly speakee hopefully. No comma before ‘hopefully’ thus it is an adjective. I am feeling hopeful. I am not feeling hopeful about my sleep patterns returning to normal any time … Continue reading

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Banana Custard

Immobile car taunts my lack of engineering expertise with a metallic, blue stare. Sun pokes me in the eye while chumming up with chilly wind that steals my trousers. Road block makes me smile at least: enforced pedestrianism ensures my … Continue reading

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