Away Laughing on a Fast Camel

I am exhausted by trying to get along with the Lord.

I wanted to kill her and make her eat her fringe. And her knickers.

Here is another marvy glimpse into the gothic basement that I call my mind.

What in the name of Hitler's panties and matching bra set was she talking about?

Looking out of the window at the infinite sky, I prayed out, 'Dear Baby Jesus, I am sorry for my sin, even though I do not know what they are, which seems a bit unfair if it is going to be held against me. But that is your way. And I am not questioning your wisdomosity. In future, however, would it be possible for my life to be not so entirely crap? Thank you.

And that's when it fell off in my hand

A nod is as good as a wink to a blind badger.

Rosie laughed in a not too reassuring way if you like sane laughter.

I am so depressed and bored I may even have to do some homework.

Look, girls and boys are different. Girls like to be touched twenty times a day in a nonsexual way to feel good about themselves - that is why I tickle you and link arms with you - but boys think about sex, snogging and football, and also snogging whilst playing football. Simple.

It was like being in an exciting movie, except I didn't know whether it was a romance or a comedy.

11:20 a.m. This is my fabulous life: the Sex God left for Whakatane last month and he has taken my heart with him. 11:25 a.m. Not literally, of course, otherwise there would be a big hole in my nunga-nungas. 11:28 a.m. And also I would be dead. Which quite frankly would be a blessing in disguise.

So, in conclusion, that is the moral of Heidi. 'Always push invalid chairs off the top of mountains when you get the opportunity.' The end. Excellent advice.

I am abandoned on the ship of life.” “I know.” “Jas, you are not really cheering me up.” “Well, I know and that is because there is really nothing to be cheerful about; I would hate to be you.” in

Dave said, “Tarts’ wardrobe?” “Loos.” Dave said with sort of admirationosity in his voice, “Outstanding” midnight

I could have stayed holding on to Masimo and riding round forever, round and round, like that bloke on that doomed phantom boat, The Flying Dutchman. Of course there are differences—he was not on a scooter, and I don’t have a beard and I am not Dutch.

Still, a really heavy period should cheer me up.

I am in the prime of my womanhood, nunga-nungas poised and trembling (attractively). Lips puckered up and in peak condition for a snogging fest.