Bit Bitter

You can’t give a shit about this dream. Another turned sediment in year-old vodka and that one, the one, was seventh sneer, a forgetting, betting on the wrong X Factor member for the win. Because what should is a very slim and what did is a rim straddler. Success, is every best-friend picked boy over head bands, pleats and horoscope compatibility and Spice Girls’ CDs, cemented in the nineties when we had promise. But promise, no. Ant and Dec had promise then, too; boy band hairstyles fooling no-one.

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