How To Stop The ‘Fuck-Its’

A few days ago I was on Facebook looking for bad grammar to correct, and other things to feel smug about (what of it??) when a picture popped up, posted by a mate who was sat on a train in Manchester. The picture was innocent enough – I think he was waiting for the choo-choo to leave the station and take him to a faraway rock gig or whatever – but the thing that caught my eye, even caused a sudden jolt to pass through my knackers, was the open can of Boddingtons Bitter sat on the table at the bottom of the picture.

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