isn’t that just flat favourless tonic for poor people?

You know the point I’m making though: there are indeed precious resources that can’t be mined from asteroids. It is not inconceivable that there are organic compounds out there with unique properties that can’t simply be made in a lab (e.g. ancient wood properties compared to new forest) and exist in a state that is economical for easy extraction.

isn’t wood a hard to find resource?

I was genuinely confused there, since I thought it was something that only conservatives used. Thanks for this

This is extremely funny, and I’m saying this not to be unkind – this is how you should communicate it to your boss: you stumbled on something unexpected, freaked out, and wasn’t sure how to recover whilst saving face. Your boss should be human enough to know why you reacted the way you did, and offering a weak grin at it might win you back

…particles get you off?

“So, what the fuck was all that last night? Don’t give me that - say sorry at least you worthless cunt”

He’s a talkative nightmare tbh, can’t wait to get rid of him

would like to know more

… male feet. That’s what I’m going with.

Same with London fireworks. Not worth it. Kids and women especially. l

I’m a hwat!?

For anyone wondering

bonfire (n.)

https://www.etymonline.com/word/bonfire#etymonline_v_15587

late 14c., bonfir, banefire, “a fire in which bones are burned;” see bone (n.) + fire (n.). The original specific sense became obsolete and was forgotten by 18c. The general sense of “large open-air fire from any material for public amusement or celebration” is by mid-16c. and that of “large fire for any purpose” from 17c. also from late 14c.

Unnecessary, I gave my grandma an ocular pat down the moment she walked in.

Russ and Oli Gark must have a hard time fitting in

Let him who hath understanding
Reckon the Month of the Beast
For it is a Human Month…

Hey at least they’re open with it. I’d have love to have known that my neighbours were cunts before I’d move in. Sometimes a simple sign short of a burning poop bag is a nice olive branch.

When German people go to hell, or skiing, they are forced into little tents, served shitty overpriced beer, and are subject to repeated blows to their ears by a type of music whispered fearfully only in dark circles as schlagermusik.

Drinking, smoking, eating, trying to forget my ex, more drinking, etc.

It’s like a regular work day, but coffee is swapped with gin, and emails are switched with cigarillos

“she took my pasta maker, Jerry!”