Creepy dolls. Lydia Lunch. That's about as good as a Saturday night gets for me these days. Which is pretty good.
Tomorrow, I'll take the bus to work. Maybe my knees will brush against those of the foxy but slightly vacant looking chick I sometimes watch from afar. If so, this will be playing on my walkman:
Later that evening I'll return home to a microwave meal for one and some mild substance misuse. Possibly I'll have some kind of fantasy involving Jane Wiedlin, a wetsuit and some dolphins. Maybe it'll go like this:
And so it goes on.
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