Remove The Clutch Now You're Running On Automatic in 2014: The Year That Was

Today we’re mass producing commercialised individuality, with a singular drive, remove the clutch, now you’re running on automatic. Fuck what they say, you’d better listen to the voices. Because they really aren’t kidding when they tell you to mind the Gap!

More braces, material girls love blood diamonds wrapped in moon dust. I’m a spaceman so I crash down to earth with a thump.

First thought of the day, ‘Graaa I feel rough.’

Second thought of the day, ‘Though not half as rough as I could be feeling. ‘

Third thought of the day (following a burp) ‘That would be the garlic pizza last night then!’

Seems a good move that I called time on the night after the 5th pint.

You know it’s going to be a long day when your first thoughts directly related to your first action – In this case, a horrendous eruption of gassy burpage as I fill the air around me with a potent chickeny/garlic essence.

My 2nd thought was more upbeat feeling rather pleased with myself that I managed to go out, having been paid, on a Thursday, managing to return home by 11, with ma keys ‘n’ wallet, and no hangover! Ok, so maybe a little lethargic (I phoned the guy on the next bank of desks because I couldn’t move)

Who needs the gym when you’ve a Friday afternoon ready to bench press you into submission.
No tapping out!
- The internal mantra as you clock in on another day in the core.
Living the dream out of dead man’s shoes, your corpse was brown-bread on arrival so they switched focus from your toasted ass and gave your ghost a Smartpass. Clever thinking from the team of guinessess now they’re drunk with success ordering triple tipples..