Hold your head up to the gun of a million cathode ray tubes aired at your tiny skull.

Another tea-time, another day older.

The doer and the thinker, no allowances for the other, as the failing light illuminates the mercenaries creed.

Be sure to leave your underpants with someone you can trust.

She's a warm fart at Christmas.

Jump up, look around, find yourself some fun. No sense in sitting there hating everyone.