There’s no denying the fact that I got out of bed on the wrong side today. I woke at 5.37am, dry-mouthed and exhausted, with the faint taste of last night’s elegantly flavoured £3.99 corner shop wine coating my teeth. I wrenched my sorry eyes round in their sockets, scowled the scowl of scowls at that hideous symbol of oppression my hairbrush, and
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