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Dreaming was frowned upon when I were a lad. You young folk don't know you're born. "Dreaming!?", our father would say, "that's for soft lads boy. You want to think about back-breaking labour and persistent agonising, easily curable diseases. Wants to dream he does. 'Ee, I've nowt 'eard owt so daft in all my days" before lancing us with the birch. Oh, how I miss that birch...
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Message boards are the last vestige of the spent masturbator, still intent on wasting time in some neg-heroic fashion. Be damned all who sail here.
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Originally Posted by Savage Clone
Last time I was in Chicago I spent an hour in a Nazi submarine with a banjo player.
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