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Archive for June, 2007

I was logging into blogger yesterday when I discovered a strange set of number combinations. The days in the year, 333 and 666.* I mentioned this to Adrian (who was sitting beside me) and he said, “quick, stand on one leg”. It’s important to point out that Adrian is a cricketer. And in the world [...]

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And he says to the doctor, “Doc, I hurt all over.” He touches his leg, and he winces. He touches his face, and he winces. He touches his stomach, and he winces. The doctor says, “you’ve got a broken finger”.

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Poisoned

I can feel it. The poison. It’s cold and sharp and I can feel it slucing around my brain. As the icy liquid curls round the inside of my skull I can feel thoughts being taken away from me. Stolen. Gone. I move my head up and as I do more function escapes. The poison [...]

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I had my dad, Ellen, my brother, and Nick over for Father’s day. We drank beer and wine and watched the grand prix. Here’s my impression of the event…

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The ultimate English Breakfast is a difficult thing to do right. I had an English breakfast this morning, and on the menu it didn’t mention bacon. So I ended up having to ask for the full English Breakfast with Bacon. It turned out that it was just a misprint. But it’s a problem that exists. [...]

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In a surprise twist, Part 2 of this story has been written by Nick. I hope to get a third outsider to write part 3. If you fancy giving it a go, then either drop me an e-mail or leave me a comment on this post. In exchange for Nick writing part 2 of this, [...]

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A buccaneer.

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The pain train

There were two major train related grievences that I managed to miss off of my previous rant on the matter. Both of them relate to MP3 players. The first is obviously the tinny racket that seems to travel an incredible distance. I’m actually writing this while standing on a train platform. Nobody else is on [...]

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One turns to the other and says, “quiet in her today isn’t it”.

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Grass

They are lying on the grass. The two of them. Her in a denim skirt, him in tan shorts. They each have a plastic cup, half filled with rapidly warming beer. The odd combination of deep base vibrating you but being unable to hear the melody that you only get at a festival is washing [...]

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