Dating delilah loose lips sink ships
they say everything happens for a reason and you are my reason.
Typical teenage drama; guy breaks up w/ girl for all the right reasons. Sometimes, the calling card may be a result of the villain's M. (not necessarily a Card-Carrying Villain) or distinctive Weapon of Choice.One obvious example: vampires always leave their characteristic two-holed neck bite.I am stood in the office kitchenette, staring at a slowly boiling kettle. I’ve tried cutting back on my drinking lately, but the overwhelming horror of the mundane has sent me hurrying back to the mid-priced Pinot Grigio with an insatiable gusto. A kitchenette is a half arsed kitchen, the runt of the culinary litter. We’ll be on i Tunes and Soundcloud, and we’ll try to have a feed on our upcoming website. I loathe shiny faced ‘B’ list comedians blithering inanely about Raleigh Choppers and The Bay City Rollers and Space Hoppers and other such vapid consumerist bullshit on BBC4 shows titled ‘We *heart* the 70’s’, but at the same time the smell of melting tarmac makes my chest ache for childhood days spent wandering alone in the merciless sun through empty streets, or petrol fumes, or the sound of the sea through an open caravan window. I don’t tap smokes off people as a rule, but desperate times and all that… Until recently I was convinced the fucking things were breeding, that bins were male and dust sheets were female and that litters of tiny bins and dust sheets were nesting out of sight in the dark shadows of the warehouse. Great little motor, when I get to drive her.” I say, “Does your lass get first dibs usually? The kitchenette is always a grim place, even the name is grim. So look out on here and on Twitter – It is midday and I want a cigarette. I might have mentioned it before, how I sometimes crave things I’ve not had in a long time, things like Walker’s Spicy Tomato flavour Snaps, Ice Pops, anal sex, good hair, a hot August, gratitude, cigarettes. I look around, between machines and sound for a bloke with a cough or a wheeze, someone chewing gum and checking their watch. I don’t want to hound Fucking Amazing Dave but I really want a smoke and, as usual, he owes me twenty quid. It turns out that all that was really happening was that people were buying a lot of bins and dust sheets. He pulls the bin over, lifts the dust sheet crammed inside. If you can’t nick it from the factory, you go to Frank’s Hardware and buy a couple of dust sheets and a bin. It’s a Micra Dot, Dot is short for Dorothy, so thats’ it’s name.” I say, “Is it the one painted with flowers, got bit of plastic instead of a passenger window?