I'm watching an American Sit-Com on TV. I'm meant to be getting dressed for work but have this phobia of getting in that sodding car again.
It's Christmas, there's lots of love around.
Did you know I was unlovable?
It's official.
I have the stamp to prove it. On my forehead.
I can't even have casual affection.
I don't want love anyways. It's nasty and hurtful and makes me vomit.
There, now I feel better.
Onward through the Bristol traffic.
Chill Trinity.
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