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By fans, for fans. By fans, for fans. By fans, for fans.

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Posted

Yesterday, Fyds entices up to his house for some free ale and a warmed up curry that his missus made.

 

So I head up to Chez Fyds and dutifully wait in the car park of an agricultural supply shop so he could signal to me which house to go to nearby. But the b*stard disabled his phone so I couldn't call him. I think I saw him laughing hysterically and making the w*nker sign at me.

 

So I drove on to Heathrow thirsty and hungry. Don't fall for his tricks.

Posted

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