I swear that if I see one more jogger running past as I sit here growing fat in my sofa, I will kill them with a well-aimed blunt object (boring 600-page fantasy novel) thrown at their head.
Now I will heave myself out of the sofa and walk (slowly) to the corner shop to buy a big bag of crisps. Which I will eat in front of the telly (NCIS, Primeval). Mostly out of boredom.
Mean something already, life!
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