My mum’s got a great anecdote about how the doctor came around about my cough when I was a newborn, and he came into a room full of local mums all fawning over me in my cot and chugging away.
My mum’s got a great anecdote about how the doctor came around about my cough when I was a newborn, and he came into a room full of local mums all fawning over me in my cot and chugging away.
“Satellite city” might do the trick.
I go in with a lot of fervour myself, but “blasting”?
Sometimes people fall from an aircraft and bounce jovially off the ground; sometimes people turn their heads too quickly and tear the fabric keeping their windpipe in place.
Bizarrely enough, I know the feeling, haha. Actually I’m sort of undergoing it now.
I’d never considered this as relevant to bipolar disorder.
Well like I say, I just read it somewhere a few years ago, and I’ve just had a brief search myself and found the same thing as you basically.
I wouldn’t say insane but that’s defo against the rules for me. I often have chefs who want us to leave the bellybuttons on cherry tomatoes and I get this mildly niggling feeling because I read a few years ago that they’re poisonous.
Just stick in give way signs, bish bash bosh.
Skoda
They’re Czech. The name even has a little thing on the S, officially.
I did that a lot as a kid, as well as having to scratch e.g. my left arm if I’d just scratched my right arm. I had to put my first step on a new surface with my left foot and the last with my right, and I had a system of sort of aping something I’d just heard by grinding my teeth, which I still sort of do sometimes but only in my head because my teeth have grown in such a way that I can’t really do it any more.
I remember I used to eat a bag of crisps by holding the bag in my right hand and picking with my left, until one day I decided that was stupid, and rather than just giving up dictating which hand did what, I switched hands.
Have you tried explaining in your native language that you don’t speak that language? They love it.
Or put a bit more elegantly: joy shared is joy doubled; sorrow shared is sorrow halved.
I went to secondary school at the turn of the millennium and I remember having to go to admin to get my dinner tickets on a Monday, which were worth £1.30, but there was never any shame in it because I don’t think too many kids knew the significance of it; in fact, my mate Danny would always want to buy them off me for £1.50 apiece. This other lad called Liam would sometimes lord it over me because his mum gave him £2 a day for his dinner, but by year 11 he was roundly known as a bit of a prick if I recall correctly, so I was even vindicated in the end.
Famous-1920s-dancer-long, apparently!
I concede, but the joke is supposed to be told verbally so I’m happy with my choice.
Including fridge magnets?
And the rest?