My friend Mo told me.

A woman at work just told everyone that her IBS is so bad that she can't sit down.

Rusty sherriff's badge is raw like sushi, as Neneh Cherry would say.

Scratch the itch.

She doesn't need any encouragement, she just announced that she had to go to her dad's "for a good blow out" and that she is "defecating (my edit before Mr. Skywalker gives me another bollocking) through the eye of a needle."

Anyone else see the documentary on John Cooper Clarke last night that man is a genius and I never realised chickentown was used in the Sopranos

Haven't watched it yet, bumped into him (literally) a couple of years ago outside Hull City Hall, very nice guy, doing a lot for poetry in schools. Better than all that Kipling and Wordsworth stuff we had to learn reams of!

Leftfield "Dub Gussett".

The music that will be playing when our electronic servants rise up to overthrow us.

Your average toaster now contains more computer processing power than the Apollo Moon Landings.

It will happen.

That was the first time I heard it. It worked brilliantly. Bizarre though to hear his dulcet Salfordian tones going on about cold chips, old pies, flat beer and clubs full of girls and guys with murder in their eyes, across the Sopranos.
The swearier f-word version is better, the rhythm a bit faster.

He needs to change his image though, looks a parody of himself.

I heard him come out with a pretty good line recently.

Whilst commenting that at his age, most of the party's he now goes to are wakes he said; "Man cannot live on vol au vents alone".

That's what my friend plays 'fortissimo' when she doesn't like the look of the people viewing the house that's for sale next door.

Good plan that, you're friends are obviously as cheeky in the minx department as yourself.