Bubblicious

I have been drinking bubbles. Although I suspect that the bubbles themselves are not alcoholic. Or calorific. Or even bubblicious. Bastard advertisers of the 1980s unite. They are popsilicious! And alchinatonic. Stotius! Stialidowhoopsie!

Sigh. Tum ti tum. You wouldn’t credit how many times I have typed that in my life. I mean, it’s not your average sentence is it? Tum ti tum/ Altogether too many vowels. And possibly bubbles.

Anyhoo. Where was I? Bubbling. Oh yes. I managed to make my weight vary by 3.6kgs yesterday. I’m so proud. Almost as proud as John D’un’eath’roaming, the world’s first suicidal estate agent. I am the Wiiiiiiner. Or at least I wiiiiiill be, when I buy a Wiiii.

Speaking of which. It is time. Oh Oh. It is time. For stormy weather. Or other Pixies songs involving the loo. I am the loo, you are the loo, we are the loo, wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. Or similar.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow wiiiiiiiill be the day. The day God made. The day Ken Dodd’s dad’s dog died. And the day.

That marks the beginning. T.r.u.s.t. me.

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