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Bloody Kids

They're really doing my head in now. Every thirty seconds there's a knock at the door. "Is George in?" It must be doing me Mum and Dad's head in even more than mine as they're the poor sods who are up and down like an up and down thing to answer the bleedin' door. And it's not just that, the knock is preceded by the trundle of those wretched scooters that all the 8-12 year olds in the neighbourhood seem to think are ever so cooool even though they in fact make the "scootee" look as camp as a row of tents. Christ they will look back in abject horror that they ever trailed round in one of those "gay bicycles" a few years from now. I strongly urge all parents right now to make sure that they get a picture of their offspring on their scooter for future posterity. "Yes, of course we'd like to meet your new girlfriend, bring her in whilst I upload those picture of you on your gay scooter onto the 56 inch plasma telly....."

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