Typhoid JH-R
You can colour me moderately peeved. The local GP has had more trade out of me in the last four weeks than in the previous four years and I am now sucking down Erythromycin every few hours (pauses for Usenet Joke), the Saab failed its MOT on a couple of stupid things (a blown bulb and the alleged bendy-pipe between manifold and exhaust. Since the exhaust was recently replaced by the muppets at Shit-Fit, who were looking at the Volvo section of the parts-book while attempting to bullshit me into believing that 'all them scandawegian cars is the same, innit', it would surprise me only very slightly to learn that they'd made a bugger of the job. Anyway, I'm not in a useful state to piss about with bloody garage-morlocks, so the MOT-Mob can fix it) and because the bloody lurgi bloody started on bloody Friday the weekend was a bit of a disaster.
And. Went for a wander round the Bicester Temple Of Shop, which seemed to be stuffed with teenagers either practicing their apprentice-hardman gait (just waddle about like you've got some terrible affliction of the testicles and they've swollen to grapefruit size) or admiring each other's Ugg knockoffs. Christ what a bunch of bastards. On one hand, there was Happy Purchase at the Tog24 and TNF stalls. On the other, I'm going to start firebombing jeans shops if they don't buck their ideas up quick-smart.
And. Went for a wander round the Bicester Temple Of Shop, which seemed to be stuffed with teenagers either practicing their apprentice-hardman gait (just waddle about like you've got some terrible affliction of the testicles and they've swollen to grapefruit size) or admiring each other's Ugg knockoffs. Christ what a bunch of bastards. On one hand, there was Happy Purchase at the Tog24 and TNF stalls. On the other, I'm going to start firebombing jeans shops if they don't buck their ideas up quick-smart.