I've just been to see my kids in their nativity play.
We were told to only take pics of our own kids and not anyone else's.
Also there was this one red Coke drinking land-whale in front of me who sat with each of her gigantic arse-cheeks separated onto individual chairs.
I spent most of the time there wondering if that's also how she shits, like directly into an empty cereal box or whatever, or whether people get given gigantic NHS toilets when they reach a certain weight.
Considering I do zero exercise and eat like a fucking pig, I'm not in too bad shape for 44.
I attribute this minor medical miracle to either a preternaturally high metabolism, or an extremely voracious tapeworm.
I'll probably die at 60 or something, which I'm actually fine with. Getting old seems like a bit of a dead-end.
The new flavour Irn Bru is fecking ace.
Irn Bru Xtra.JPG
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