My Weary Legs, I Can Exercise You Later.

Apparently, the weather is wonderful everywhere but in London today.

I’m living in a horror movie involving the the harshest Catch 22 ever; I need to buy a coat to be able to go outside and stay warm, but I don’t have a coat to wear to get to the coat shop. What kind of fuckery is this? I seem to be harbouring a bit of a sniffle so I think I should stay in, crack the heating up to ‘Carribean Style’ and watch all of these Eastenders episodes that I’ve already seen.

Things I intend on doing today:

  •  At least two hours of sweet fuck all,
  • Wincing everytime Roxy ‘Bride of Chucky’ Mitchell comes onto my TV screen,
  • Wondering whether it was a mistake to buy this blouse,
  •  Hoping someone is baking me a cake.

Things I will try not to do, but spend two hours doing anyway:

  •   Watching 1970s pornography. Something involving a handyman and a woman in an apron and/or midgets.

I had best get back to my busy day.


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