Sin… Ants in your Pants…

Sin… Ants in your Pants…

Ants in your pants, apparently, make your belly button dance. I’m sure that, if ants were indeed crawling around in my pants, it wouldn’t just be my belly button dancing. I’d be bouncing around like a bungee jumping Pinocchio if the little blighters...

Sin… Snapping Synapses…

Why is the number pad on a computer different to the one on a telephone? And why, when I’m calling someone, do I not forget this and end up calling Outer Mongolia instead? It feels perfectly normal to be entering figures on a keyboard and then upside-down myself...

Sin… Fair to Middling…

Fair to middling. That’s what people say, isn’t it? “How’s it going?” “Fair to middling. You?” “Not bad, not bad.” You walk on, not particularly remembering whether the person you just spoke to had actually said...

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