I have a rehearsed reading of a new play in few days so I'm polishing the script and tinkering. I'm still aware the play needs a bit of layering and it also needs a small, trim but it's pretty much there. I can write. I'm actually not bad with words.
Then, last night, the Missus came out with the following sentence while trying to stab e with a fork:
'I'm not cunting well kissing you, you fucking shite-hawk!'
I'm maybe no so creative with words after all...
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