PPPPPPPS. If you type the word “google” into google, will it turn inside out. I’m scared to try.

Ciaran..

PPPPS. I hate PS’s, and generally try to avoid them. There’s no excuse when you’ve a delete key… or even just more paper and ink.
I should’ve just been more mindful of what I writing.
I’m sorry.

PPPPPS. I’m not really

Ciaran..

Probably for the best, as this mornings “stool” was of regular consistency. Almost as though I ate bran flakes with slices of banana every morning. Yeah, it was grand. “Grand” in both the Irish and French meaning of the word.

Anywhey, I came here not for talk of floaters, just to say hello and so on.
I’ve forgotten my blogger username and password, like a spa, but I assure you I am your brother in charms, Ciaran.

I’ve missed you, Mr Major, like a hole in the head. Namely my mouth, nose or ears.
Nothing to report or anything. I still drink, smoke and begrudge.

So, that’s about all I can muster. I can no longer type without looking at the keyboard, so I’m sure you can appreciate that this is a bit of a choir.

Take care, and keep cunting.
Ciaran..

PS. A special mention to your resident fat feline mother, who I also miss terribly.

PPS. I’m aware the French spell “grand” with an e at the end of it, but who cares?

PPS. I’ve since had a look at the official Justin site.
He’s a lesser known song called “still on my brain”, which I’d like to adapt to “still on my bran”.
Thanks

“Drums”.