Loads of awful goals against Arsenal. I’m having a proper good moan at all of them
Loads of awful goals against Arsenal. I’m having a proper good moan at all of them
The before time, h. When we could go outside; go to pubs and restaurants and touch each other (not like that). Do you realise that the last meal I had out was an abjectly poor club sandwich in a shítty hotel in Gaydon? The chicken had clearly come straight out of the fridge and they served it with bacon-flavoured crisps, ffs! It was abominable, but I'd sexually molest an alligator to be able to do that now.
'Seems that I was busy doing something close to nothing
But different than the day before'
'Met a dwarf that was no good, dressed like Little Red Riding Hood'
'Now you're unemployed, all non-void
Walkin' round like you're Pretty Boy Floyd'
And even if we realise our mistake we cannot go back. Our politicians dare not concede they have made errors because they'll quickly be annihilated by Twitter.
We will never fully get out of lockdown. There'll be brief periods of respite but as soon as one single person sneezes we'll all have to scurry back into our bunkers because "if it saves but one single octagenarian's life it is worth it!"
I blame you b. You thought it highly amusing when Trump decided the world could be governed by a string of facile Tweets.