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That feels better. After making the dumb move of drinking a glass… - A Most Illuminating Tale
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Robert Wells or Mr Waters
Date: 3.06 am, Saturday 27th December, 2003
Subject: (no subject)
Security: Public
That feels better.

After making the dumb move of drinking a glass of my grandad's home brew at lunch which has yet to finish fermenting, I went into town for a drink with Alan and then on to a night dancing at my old local, the Dog and Trumpet, or Flog and Dump it as it should more rightly be called, although it hasn't changed hands for a few years at least.

It was great to be there with two of my favourite randoms, and I hope they won't be insulted if I call them that. Alan now lives in Kidderminster and is happy and I'm very glad of the fact because he deserves it. Garry is an accountant and soon to be freemason and lives in Coventry. There is no reason why I should have kept in touch with these people when I have lost touch with so many others, but strangely I do and it was great to see them.

I danced a lot to cheesy rock anthems including, most notably for me, Closer, Screamager, I Believe In A Thing Called Love and Smells Like Teen Spirit. Nobody kissed me, or even looked twice at me, possibly because I was a topless sweaty psychodancer. Not that I wanted anyone to, but it's nice for your self esteem. The only time I was a little peeved was one girl was walking round with mistletoe and getting a kiss of everyone, girls and guys, snogs if she knew them and pecks if she didn't, and she walked straight past me. Herumph. Anyway, they're all under age.

Am going to jump into the hot tub for a little while before facing the trials and tribulations of going shopping in the January Sales with my dad and meeting up with the first girl I ever really fancied.
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User: (Anonymous)
Date: 4.44 am, Friday 2nd January, 2004 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
The mistletoe laden bird at the Flog and Dump It was obviously too intimidated by your good looks and amazing dance skills to approach you, either that or someone had flicked a dred in her eye just before she got to you. This happened to me on a regular basis during my - ahem - dubiously spent youth in the aforementioned establishment. There should actully be a warning sign on the door about this, but I don't think a 'Beware! Low-flying dreds' warning sign has been invented yet, perhaps you could do the honours and save other birds missing out on the lookers in there in future?
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