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Isn’t it all futile? Does anything matter, really? This planet will collapse in on itself one day. We are all stardust.
How the f ucking crikey cobblers c unty bollox did we lose to Reading? Losing to Spurs is fine, we’ll be champions. Losing to a packet of Bourbons means we going all Bordeaux. Spiritually.
Life begins at the hop, boys and girls.
Make this life of rollercoasters a fun one for all, don’t be a c unt.
In this short existence. Given I live a land of plenty. I’m not oppressed nor am I impressed and can write shite and talk bollocks. Especially after a litre of Sherry:
What makes your life bearable. Beyond , family, friends and all that. What goes on in your head. On your own. At 3.27 am.
I can honestly say it’s about XTC. Not Rangers, love them that I do.
I woke up the other night and could’ve sworn that Andy Partridge was shaving our dog.
We don’t have a dog.
My simple pleasure is getting to the end without being interrupted.
Watched a Brian Cox (dream scientist one) saying that, given some sort of shit and stuff basically we are the only advanced species ever or ever will be.
He’s a clever bloke that was in a shit band.
I’m meant to trust his opinions on life and XTC’s fifth album?
Life. Use it up or wear it out.
No idea what I’m talking about now. Started in a sprint , ended on my arse, gravel in the gob.