Even though I am a cheap date, I resent that I should be sucked rather than sipped gently and savoured. Please treat me with love and respect. If you love someone, you will not suck them dry and then launch into a gutsy inebriated rendition of 'Simmah Dahn Nah' followed by 'Master of the House'.
Yours cautiously, Sonesta Chardonnay (£2.99 from One Stop.)
Everyone knows my Valentine message goes to my boyfriend. He's short, has a crap beard, looks a bit like a trampy Chris Martin and forgot my birthday but I love him anyway. Puke, puke, puke, I know.
Otherwise my message to singles: the Hyde Park Picture House is showing Breakfast at Tiffany's and The Chalets are playing at The Faversham. Two ways to spend your evening that won't involve stuffed fluffy bears, crap chocolate, and satin heart-shaped ****e.
Rich just has a heavy cold. Either that, or he'll be perving at fit boys and using tissues to mop up some drool. Anything else is too hideous to contemplate.
JohnK -- check the Chalets out! (By which I mean download illegally first.) They're quite fun, bouncy, indieish girl/boy vocals. The type of stuff they may've played at Razz, bless its heart.
Ben and Jerry are still alive and well, whereas Dr. Atkins perished from a heart attack a couple of years ago. I know what I'm scarfing down on the sofa this evening.
AliceH wrote: Ben and Jerry are still alive and well, whereas Dr. Atkins perished from a heart attack a couple of years ago. I know what I'm scarfing down on the sofa this evening.
Tim?
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I reserve... I reserve... I have a reservation... I HAVE a reservation.. What do you mean its not in the computer?
AliceH wrote: Ben and Jerry are still alive and well, whereas Dr. Atkins perished from a heart attack a couple of years ago. I know what I'm scarfing down on the sofa this evening.
I'm pretty sure either Ben or Jerry died from being really fat or something...
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Comes across all shy and coy, just another nancy boy.
i got up for work this rainy morning and found i'd been dumped by text at 2am. then again, i dragged myself out of my ridiculous misery and, working for a bank, smiley contentedly at all the sad desperate knobs in suits running around in the rain, their wallets a tad lighter for the armfuls for roses and hearty-lovey-puke-puke teddies. unfortunately clinton's don't bank with us.
love to all my friends x
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burn down our home, RAPE OUR DEAD MOUTHS. Just as long as I don't have to hear anymore of your disgusting babble