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Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.
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Really, there comes a time when mums should realise they've already fucked up your life quite enough thank you very much, and should retire quietly to a home by the sea where they can be Tom Jonesed out of their worn out minds.
I found a tin of condensed milk in my pantry the other day. It had expired four years ago. I didn't even know that stuff expired. Weird. But it definitely had -- it was that mustard colour that comes out of babies' bums at inopportune moments. So, no caramel for me that day.
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