So there I was, overhearing conversation snippets in the public house of the mind.
Drinking to deviancy- I’ll take to that.
Absolutely rotten that one is. Rotten.
Oh baby, stick your dongle into my throbbing hard drive.
Private toilets for dogs.
The world is my gangster.
Wahey the lads.
The Geordie took a drag of his herbal pipe and blew squares in the air. The picture of the Queen on the wall coughed her coin-ready head off.
Little Fletcherisms 