I've been dispatched off to the health farm today for a "haircut 100" as I call it, the tight bastards. Just as I'd got myself smelling just right as well it's a short, back and all off for me. The Sweeney Todd that does it doesn't even give you a choice or of styles nor kiss my arse. Then I get a bath and they rub some talc all over me. It stinks like the stuff you used to buy your gran off the market for Christmas when you didn't have much cash. You know the sort of thing I mean. Devon Violets, by Yardley: 50p a kilo, that's the stuff. Pooh count: only 1, I think I may have a medical condition.
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