|
|
|
|
| November 18 2001 Sunday I've got news for whoever wrote that article in 'Cosmopolitan'. It may very well be true that men think about sex two hundred and thirty six times a day but fourteen to fifteen-year-old boys think about it five hundred and ten times. This is the average figure clocked up by me, Brain Damage and Stinking from when we woke up this morning until nine-o-clock tonight, so it's even higher than that really. I thought about it for five hundred and thirty times, Brain Damage thought about it for five hundred and twenty five times and Stinking thought about it for four hundred and seventy five times. (Stinking would like it on record that he wouldn't normally think about sex less than me and Brain Damage, but for part of the time he was actually having sex, and when you have sex you have to think about something else so that you don't reach the vinegar stroke too quickly). Well he might think about something else when he's having a shag but if ever I start doing it again - please let my dick start growing again God - my mind is going to be fully one hundred per cent concentrated on the shagging, that's for sure! Mrs Carter, our striker big gob Jason Carter's mother called round today and told my mother that the man who lives at number 73 up the road is a drugs dealer. My mother said: 'Why are you telling me?' Mrs Carter said: 'Because you're an undercover policewoman.' My mother said: 'I'm no such thing.' Then Mrs Carter looked puzzled and went. My father looked at me with his 'Has this got anything to do with you, Adrian?' look but I pretended I was reading. To increase my chances of getting the digital camera I want for Christmas I've been leaving PC World brochures all round the house opened at the digital camera page. |
|
|