11 July 2001
The next person who stabs me in the ribs with a copy of New Media Weekly on the underground during rush hour gets it rolled up and rammed down their throat Ash-from-Alien style.
And lady, it was a packet of POLO MINTS! So quit it with the indignant-you're-just-a-young-pervert look. Don't you realise its a crime punishable by death to not move out of the way when everybody else wants off at Oxford Circus?
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