Summary
ONE word, three syllables. Whisper it in my ear first thing in the morning and it's enough to have my brain pressing the panic button before the shutters are open for business. Not dentistry.
Not overdraft. Not even Prestatyn Bar-be-cue. Forgive me for forcing it out through grinding teeth. But personally, as a phobia it beats spiders, flying, open spaces, confined spaces, beards and clowns every time.See the full content of this document
Extract
David Cottrell: The Fires of Hell Are More Appealing Than This Idea
It's got to be a bona fide barbecue, mind. I'm no summer killjoy, far from it. Dinner al fresco is a wonderful thing, especially if you're out...
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