Thursday 19 April 2001


tick-tock. writing against the clock, not for the first time. i'm in easyeverything. i've just stuck two of the hundreds of discarded credit vouchers over that stupid flashing advert in the lower right of the screen. i think the person next to me yabbering away on his mobile phone thought it was some kind of secret code. 'stop reading my screen, my secret messages'. it's not.

he's talking code too. fuck knows what language it is, but he's used the words 'bjorn borg' twice now. he's eating rowntrees fruit pastilles from a big packet. i notice they have redesigned the logo, and am pleased to note i do not want one. my tastebuds are changing. i like olives now, have done for two years. how long till i like celery? when i like celery, i'll know for sure i'm old.

today i've been writing a mean and nassty quiz called 'is yours yum?' it's about time boys got paranoid about the taste of their secretions: they've made girls feel fishily bad for long enough. 'try these new proctor and gamble bollock wipes, sir. they'll keep you smooth and scentless as a baby's nutsac for up to three hours!'

actually, this is not a joke. check out this site: dissolve some powder in water, slurp it down, wait 12 hours, and PRESTO! sweet semen!

nice one lads, but what about the texture? how you going to change it from gloopy snotlump into, i don't know... Yop? and what about the temperature? going to insert a tiny fridge down there, complete with teeny tiny barman from china white, in order to sling it in a shot glass and garnish it with ice, lemon and a dash of worcester sauce?

actually, i know what you can do about the texture, and it's pretty simple. just drink water. boring, i know, but... just like the first pee of the day is ultra-yellow and pungent, so too your secretions can be more...more...

oh, i've just been warned that my credit is going to run out. i suspect this may be a good thing.

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