Well, this is my first post as blogsitter for the criminally-named Smell's Like White Spirit. I shall take care of it in the proper fashion expected of blogsitters; that is to say, I'll raid the fridge, use the phone to call all my friends in Tokyo and spend all night watching movies on Sky Box Office.
I'll try to keep it in the spirit of Chez (pun very much intended, but just not very good) where possible, but it's not easy. His shoes are very difficult to fill, mainly because they're about twice my size and I wouldn't be seen dead in them anyway. I tried to get into his mindset (a scary thought) by reviving my German, but all I could remember from GCSE was, "Meine Tante hat Durchfall," and I really don't think she'd thank me for telling you that.
That's all for today, folks, and let me leave you with an important piece of advice: don't drink water. Fish have sex in it.
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3 comments:
Are you sure you havent been the ghost writer all this time?
Very A la Chez, which is great, as I can still get my Chez Fix despite him abandoning us for tzatsiki (how the hell should THAT be spelt??)and olives...
Bienvenue, LZ; a welcome change. I was getting a bit tired of Chez's MOR huggy people-loving vibe anyway - it's time to kick some A.
Have you been to Plymouth (Chez's kingdom)? How do the local "janners", as I believe they're called, compare to Ipswich's Essex-lite chavs?
My, aren't we in an abbreviating mood today?
And no, Plymouth is, as of yet, a land unblessed by my wondrous presence. With any luck, I'll make the trip down there when I'm at uni; I need a fresh breed of chavs to hunt. There's just no sport in it here anymore.
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