A self-help book, by me, Miles Lloyd.
Words. What are words, anyway? They are just bits of letters really. Bits of letters all joined up to make a word. But some words aren’t words. Like nine. Nine is not a word. Nine is a number. Like 4 or 8. Or 48? No! 48 is not a number. 48 is not a word. 48 is a very naughty boy. 48 stole milk off of a woman and accidentally knocked a child of his bike whilst fleeing on foot. He should have fled by car. Not only is 48 naughty, but 48 is an idiot, too. Whenever you commit a crime, you must always get away in a car. It’s quicker and if you do happen to hit anyone, they were potential witnesses anyway, so you are better of for having killed them.
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I’m learning welsh and it’s awesome. I literally know every single thing on the “lesson 1” bit of the website. I’m all over this shit. Welsh should be learning me. I did find out that when you’re talking about (or talking too? Ironically I can’t work out the English bits) God you can be informal. He’s such a cool dude, that God. He just doesn’t give a fuck. I wish I was as chilled out as God.
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