Note stuffed down the back of Michael's trousers in the dorm
You could write a song about yourself. Don't think I didn't see you trying, your margins are a lot more telling than you are. "English tea biscuit with a bit of curry fla'va"? Sounds catchy. Is it a rap song? Will it have a bhangra beat?
I'm sure pigeons need plenty of rehabilitation, all those olive oil spills and chip fat. It's a miracle they can still fly. Your dad likes putting them on ridiculous constructions, doesn't he? He could put them on treadmills. They could power your house. I, for one, think it's the best idea we've ever had. Plus, it'll make them really happy, I think. They'd be safe, together, doing something they love; and away from all this mess.
Maybe I'll write a letter to my parents, tell them to visit that aunt of my mother's in Munich. I wonder if they'd actually listen to what I have to say. First time for everything, right?
Responsibilities, Right. I know all that, I was just saying. It must be nice to be able to just get on a plane and get away from all of this. I'm sort of envious.
I'm sure pigeons need plenty of rehabilitation, all those olive oil spills and chip fat. It's a miracle they can still fly. Your dad likes putting them on ridiculous constructions, doesn't he? He could put them on treadmills. They could power your house. I, for one, think it's the best idea we've ever had. Plus, it'll make them really happy, I think. They'd be safe, together, doing something they love; and away from all this mess.
Maybe I'll write a letter to my parents, tell them to visit that aunt of my mother's in Munich. I wonder if they'd actually listen to what I have to say. First time for everything, right?
Responsibilities, Right. I know all that, I was just saying. It must be nice to be able to just get on a plane and get away from all of this. I'm sort of envious.