your clock’s wrong

punch by Tim Caynes

that’s supposed to be 470 but if you make it 488, well, what do you expect? and I know it says 685, but that really means 1350, don’t you get it? well, I only paid 200 sovereigns for this and I spend ages sticking that whizzy contraption on top with toothpaste so I’m not about to start rupturing it’s spleen all over the squeakers when they set me back a couple of ponys in the first place. I spoke to this bloke who said that is was bound to happen anyway and so I should just put it all back together and drive out to stansted or something with a packet of bran flakes and a sponge and maybe we’ll get to 1500 after that optimization thing renders me useless for 30 minutes and fries my trousers at the roadside.

I mean, I specifically shelled out on this thing so that I could break it on purpose, but I’m not quite ready to do it yet because I haven’t really actually used it yet other that that time I crept up behind a mexican in the dark and punctured his trumpet with a kitchen devil. oh, I did also clamber up a particularly greasy pole just to see if I could look up my own dress, but in the end it was only to see if we could all just stop stuttering around in the snakepit and maybe crash the truck across the border. of course, there was that time in Russia when I stepped on a truncheon and blew the gaff, but in terms of the rates I was looking for, that seemed pretty feeble, so I cranked it up to 520 and tried the 1990 final, but they still missed and so I’m back to lying down on the chair mat with my sony ericsson and blathering about component deployment when I’ve only got about an hour left to get this stupid thing sent out.



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