falling off me. I mean yes, there's the hacking cough, the wildly fluctuating temperatures, the shakiness, the aching joints, the general sense of enervation and the flop sweats, but...y'know...weight loss
falling off me. I mean yes, there's the hacking cough, the wildly fluctuating temperatures, the shakiness, the aching joints, the general sense of enervation and the flop sweats, but...y'know...weight loss
Have you washed your balls? I don't like to think of you sitting there with sweaty balls.Originally Posted by Burney
falling off me. I mean yes, there's the hacking cough, the wildly fluctuating temperatures, the shakiness, the aching joints, the general sense of enervation and the flop sweats, but...y'know...weight loss
Well I've washed one of them. The other one I'm pretty sure got incinerated in Tooting about 12 years ago.
Oh, we can still use the plural, can't we? The whole satchel arrangement is still extant, after all.
For simplicity's sake, yes. I was really just pre-empting someone else (probably Pokster) jumping in.
Talking of incineration, I drive past Enfield Crematorium most mornings and it makes me laugh whenever I see smoke chuffing out of the top. Is that weird?
It's like the urge to giggle at a funeral, I suppose. Nerves, isn't it? Faced with one's own mortality and all that, one is going to laugh or cry.
how very dare you
Northern Monkey ... who can't upload a bleeding Avatar
not to mention the crying like a baby girl.
Dysentery is even better b. Quite literally shít yourself skinny
My bowels have been nothing to write home about either, I can tell you, h.
Well Sir C as good as offered to come round and wash your bóllock so I'm guessing he'll do something for your old chocolate factory while he's fussocking around down there
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