Camp Fries

Track of the day Phoenix (excerpt) - Nerve Engine.

I spotted Camp Fries hanging behind the Hello Sailor bar.
"How appropriate," I said to myself, "I'll buy a pack to take home to show Mrs B."
When I got them home I was shocked to find that it was just a carelessly sealed pack of common or garden Scampi Fries.
I've had problems seeing clearly today as well. I was on the point of phoning the optician when I realised my specs were covered in flecks of cream paint.
Never mind, only three sills to be gloss painted now and I can go back to my life of total idleness.
Over the last three weeks I've mastered the art of climbing ladders, climbed out of the bedroom window to paint from the pointy bit of a roof, made friends with the postman and saved loads of money to spend on sensible things like beer, cigarettes and Camp Fries.

Tomorrow is Bogs Minor's 25th birthday and on Friday Bogs Major is 30. September 28 and 29. Sounds like London to Brighton vintage car run syndrome to me - you only make it to the end without terminal mechanical problems, once every five years.
Happy Birthday guys!

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