So. I'm sitting at home and the landlords come over, and I say "I was just putting the kettle on," which is a lie, "would you like a drink?" and they say no, and I make myself a drink anyway to cover my arse. I am...
1) If I'm in London, remind me, which I know you will anyway. 2) See 1) above. Or possible the Dread Pirate Roberts 3) It's you, nationality matters not in this case. 4) Nutbag
I had forgotten all about this and had to look it up before I bounced up and down on the bed going "oh, it's the time traveller thingy, yay". Ahem. I'm certainly looking forward to the dead things afterwards. Providing that the answer to "can I come along even if I'm not a Runaway" is "yes and bring wine, cheese, 27 friends and a St. Bernard called Colin". Or possibly a St. Colin called Bernard.
Incidentally I only ticked "a bit touched in the head" because nobody else had. Really I know it's because the brain parasite wrapped around your cerebral cortex makes you do whacky things.
Lauren just relinked me to this, but Wednesdays are never good for me. I have to work all day, and then I'd have to go home and get changed for real Puca-ing, and it's odds to evens whether I'll feel like it or just flop.
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2) See 1) above. Or possible the Dread Pirate Roberts
3) It's you, nationality matters not in this case.
4) Nutbag
Incidentally I only ticked "a bit touched in the head" because nobody else had. Really I know it's because the brain parasite wrapped around your cerebral cortex makes you do whacky things.
Lauren just relinked me to this, but Wednesdays are never good for me. I have to work all day, and then I'd have to go home and get changed for real Puca-ing, and it's odds to evens whether I'll feel like it or just flop.