News.

Good news?

Simple blood test to check for Downs Syndrome.

I know I wouldn't send my nephew back.

But what if you knew first?

Everyone is different,

which is why anti-abortion protesters

can go and fuck themselves.

The local rag, lottery and far left corner is breakfast, plus anti-biotic [not shown].

And the bad news?

Imminent return of the suckful bitch.

Where to now?

Suggestions please?!

Who wants to move to Holland with me?

Fuck-it! 

Come on.

If you've got the money,
I've got the passport.

We'll rent a room 

and get drunk

and fuck.

(Obviously it'd need to be a boy that says yes).

So-so news.

I'm 30 years, 6 months and 11 days old today.

My predicted death date is 2047.

I was thinking what if I knew the date of my 

death would I live differently?

With the answer being 2047, no.