Drama is odd.
We spent most of today lying on Rozzle's floor, then Tangoing, then swearing obsessively and incessantly at each, whilst pretending to roll cigarettes. We have also worked out a waltz for the boxing scene (really, don't ask), and discovered that soldiers talk shite.
Really.
It's all bloody nonsense, and I blame you.
1 comment:
Feck off, twat from hell.
*minces*
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