January 24 2002
Thursday
No luck with Loot. There wasn't a single car foot pump in it. I suppose most people put air in their
tyres at a service station nowadays, but my father is too mean for that. There
was a bike pump, which I considered briefly, but rejected it as you need two hands
to use a bike pump and you would need one hand to hold the penis enlarger. I suppose you
could always get a mate to help you, but that would be embarrassing, either using the bike
pump or holding the penis enlarger. There was also a fish tank water pump
that could pump 400 gallons per hour, but I didn't like the
sound of that, ejaculation-wise. I'll have to look elsewhere.
I have decided to go to
meet Nigella Lawson in our school bikesheds on Friday night. I know that there
is about as much chance of her turning up as there is
of having success trying to poke a hundredweight of butter up a porcupine's arse with
a red hot needle but I'm going all the same.
I mean she could turn up, and if I don't turn up I'll never know, will I?
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