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I've already managed two of my five-a-day today. Lettuce and gherkins...slightly spoiled by the burger, cheese, sauce and fries.
Several of my co-workers appear to have been infected by Cuntitis. Symptoms appear to shut down the brain and keep the mouth talking.
Just heard two teens discuss a guy with a degree in computer science. He "literally understands the chemicals making computers work."
Sorry used to mean, "I won't do it again." These days it seems to mean, "Damn, I got caught. Next time I need to be more careful."
The best nights out are the cheap ones where you wake up and you're not afraid of any of the feelings you expressed.
"I just want to be left alone!" - people checking social media.
Well shit. Nobody told me RTs had to make sense as well. Shit. THIS CHANGES EVERTHING!
Sometimes it's almost like she nearly forgot I left the toilet seat up. Nearly...
Leave Tom Daley alone guys. It's not big news. Live and let fit fuckers make the rest of us paranoid about our abs...
Gentleman by day. Philosopher by night. Pervert by choice. Rebel by fate.
Each person I follow and RT represents a voice in my head that has trouble finding the words to express itself.
Being English, means you should read all my tweets in the style of Hugh Grant...and then punch yourself for pretending to be a wet fop.
Just checked my Facebook and realized I still don't want kids. On the plus side, I know what the weather is and will be tomorrow.
It's not Twittercide if you have a PS4.
After last night's embarrassing tweets, it feels like a RT night.
I spend most Saturday mornings deleting drunk tweets.
The reason good men are hard to find is because they're usually busy working, not hanging out in bars picking up drunk sluts.
Loses followers, doesn't give a shit.
Just watched Love Actually and almost gave a fuck about being happy.
I hatched from a Cadburys Creme Egg in the 1700s. Live in a travelling circus. My Native American name is He Who Runs With Scissors.