Saturday, 29 May 2010

PS -

The stench of trainers in an unventilated Italian sleeper apartment is
as the fragrance of honeysuckle compared to the range of whiffs
explosively produced by 3 hungover unwashed squaddies drinking carlsberg
and eating egg mcmuffins at 8am on the Peterborough - York stretch of
the East Coast line.

I also have beer on my keyboard.

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