Dear Sir/Madam,

I recently took my wife to the cinema and dressed myself in my usual attire of combat shorts and a t-shirt. I’m rather anal (more on that subject in a sec!) about what combats I wear and now have a wardrobe full of Abercrombies, maybe 10 pairs, collected over the years. Anyway, for our night at the cinema I threw on a pair of camo shorts that I’d bought from your NYC store last year. They’re relatively unworn due to England being the most miserable country you could ever have the misfortune of finding yourself in.

So after parking up we begin our walk to grab Pizza before the film. We’re walking and chatting away when I suddenly become aware of a really strong draught around my buttocks, I instinctively feel down the back of my shorts and to my horror, grab a handful of my naked man ass. I panicked and felt along the tear in my shorts for damage limitation…but this was fatal. The shorts had ripped from one side of the left buttock all the way across to the groin. My bare bottom cheek was out on show for any unlucky members of the public walking behind me.

How this could have ever happened I dont know. I’d not been doing any acrobatics in the shorts, and only worn them over a couple of months…but the material on the back felt super thin and fragile.

I made the wife walk an inch behind me, shadowing my steps. To an outsider we undoubtedly looked strange, but no stranger than a guy walking about with his bare bumflap out on display. We dived into Pizza Hut and I came up with the idea of tying my hoodie around my waist. It kind of worked and covered up my shame, we ate pizza and then went to see inception, I thought it was pretty boring in parts. Especially the ski section, wtf!? Plus my Mother says never to trust a short guy, and De Caprio is like 5ft 1.

Anyway, thanks for reading. I’m pretty bummed (lol!) about my shorts, but sometimes my life sucks.

Martin Hughes

But it seems unfair, nay, cheap, to leave you this way. So I shall riff you a dnots unrelated story. I just had chips, ham & egg. It was delicious, but I think I overdid the ketchup. While I was eating it I was thinking …man, I wonder if putting in dark night of the soul (dnots) and design, even brings us up on Google. That’s just the way my mind likes to roll.

I’ll nudge you awake and we’ll get off at Bury. I’ll throw the sandwiches in the bin and we’ll make our way back home.

http://www.dnots.com

He nailed me good and proper, I was only one foot out the backdoor, but he sniped me and took me down. 1 hour later and my ears are ringing through hearing the same story about his platoon approaching Berlin to corner Hitler.  I think Fred could have possibly talked the Nazis into submission. They probably streamed from the bunker, ears bleeding, with Fred close behind, talking. I sometimes want to tell him the war’s over, but I fear he would attack me.

Though to be fair, Speed fucking sucked.

I had it on the low boil

I slept well, alone in my room!
in the morning it was so soft
that I could eat it with a spoon

We curled up to gain speed and hammered forward, rocketing swiftly up the sloth like moron’s arse.

It was then that I noticed the man had no legs. He was cycling on carbon prosthetics from the thigh down, painfully pushing his stumps into each pedal revolution.

We shot by in unison, a perfect machine, and high fived each other as we left him for dead.