I don't even own an invite !
Sad sad times, I guess I'll sit alone in my mansion, look across the empty boud'war, with a glass of £1000 port in my hand (topped up with lemonade), across the fire in the mantlepiece, with an origional first edition of a dickins book, spinny-dial telephone on a table next to me, relentlessly unringing, waiting for the inevitable call from some american company trying to sale me insurance just so I have someone to speak too that evening. And then, as I fall asleep in my chair in this room with a dominating empty presense, I'll be haunted by my dreams, of my childhood in the colonies where father was showing me how to shoot white tigers and the gun misfired and I shot him in the chest, "Noooo Daddy ! No ! I didn't mean it !", and I fall to me knees in the middle of the senrigetti, no civilisation for miles and miles. And then I'll awake, with a sweat on my browl and decide this isn't a night to be alone, so I call up one of the local Subway and ask them about their goods, what they recomend, where they source their food, what they're up to the weekend, "nonono, I'm not hungry, my dreams haunt me and the loanly..... hello? hello? is there anyone there? Oh, I guess they must have accidently hanged up, I'll try calling them again".
( G/PP 💩💩💩💩💩&#128, Fri 21 May 2010, 13:39, 2 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

You'd better come

(PsychoChomp, Fri 21 May 2010, 13:47, Reply)

I'll have to see closer to the time, gaz me the details.

( G/PP 💩💩💩💩💩&#128, Fri 21 May 2010, 13:53, Reply)

( G/PP 💩💩💩💩💩&#128, Fri 21 May 2010, 13:54, Reply)