Hi Joe, I feel there should be a special dispensation to people putting on Twitter when they are off their tits. Well my tits are long way behind and other side so I have no idea… Cheers a good night to all my lovely moots!xxx
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Dear God, Gloucester is grim; a town of swingers, dullards and Hobbyists. There should be a brown sign on the ring road, “Welcome to Fred West Country”, like they do for the Brontes, Hardy and Herriot.
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Josh/Esme relationship klaxon?
#TheArchers
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People do not vote for presidential candidates in this country; they vote against them. Thus the election is usually the butchery of a villain rather than the exaltation of a hero.
H. L. Mencken
Letter to James Cannon Jr.
22nd October 1935
And now, from the friend that gave us platy jubes for the late baked bean's celebration, we have a phrase for Wess Streeting's three-day panic box… poccy store!
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Far eit from me to boast, but I am rather in awe of my own self-control, given that there's half a chocolate cake sitting uneaten on the chopping block in the kitchen.
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I can’t believe that I found myself watching that reality politics show, @bbcqt. And am I terribly inappropriate for thinking @libdemdaisy is lovely. She has the most beautiful eyes and a smoking hot brain. The idea of the “thinking man’s crumpet“ did not end in the 60s with Joan Bakewell, bless her.
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Bloody hell, a quick home-made curry and a couple of glasses of organic primitiveoand I now have a mouth like the bottom of a baby’s pram. That’s what my mother used to say; all stale piss and rusk crumbs…
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Call me paranoid, but I do slightly worry that my washing machine is about to go online and start chatGPTing with next-door's air fryer over the best ways really to bollocks a pair of mohair socks.
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Oh, fuck a biscuit. It's a 10:45, I have just made the most exquisite chowder yet, and yet it does seem rather barbaric to eat at this hour. I really am the luckiest person I have ever met.
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Actually, looking at ithe solidity of it, I could just cut it into cubes and fry it for breakfast with an egg!
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Oh cobblers, guess which lazy domestic slut has not yet got around to changing the kitchen clock. Bum.
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