Garry Johal wrote:
I stood at the gates and glared at him. My legs rubbery from exhaustion, my mind foggy and spirit weak.Sleep had eluded me the night prior, and I stayed awake pondering the many intricacies of the human condition.By the time the Sun rose over the hills, eyebags the size of typewriters had form beneath my orbital sockers.My face was drained of colour and my pallid skin drew gawks from passersby(wide-eyed from a gentleman's night's sleep.). I considered tossing the odd MC and realised to my horror, that fiend Flea Sex was on leave. My heart fell. I promptly picked it up and rode my carriage to work, whence I saw Sir Cumcision.He rode the electric railway to his office and chided me for my lacklustre appearance."Good sir, thy colour is as faded as the paint on the ceiling of the Bastilles Church."With that he puffed out his chest and marched to work, leaving me in his wake. --> miike thats you !
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