Voy Por Ustedes

Before I begin I'd just like to say to Woolworths if it's reading this, you're the worst shop ever, so do everyone a favour and bugger orf. You only survived this long because people shopped at Woolies out of nostalgia. You can't expect to continue business as a going concern without being at all concerned about what kind of a shop you're meant to be. In one corner of your shop you sell toddlers clothing, in another corner you're selling frying pans and in another you're selling stationary. What the fuck are you man?

Your unique selling point is that your shop is bizarre and shit and people only come in just to see how weird and bizarre it all still is. Sod all this death of the High Street hysteria. The sooner the fucking High Street dies the better we'll all be. It's a traumatic battle to walk down a High Street, running the Gauntlet of single mothers with prams that could level out asphalt and divorcees with hips that today's pavements are not wide enough to accommodate. I'm telling you, the sooner we all come to our senses and do our shopping on t'internets, the better. I've said me piece, I'll bid you good day.

Oh no wait, I haven't even told you what I came on here for. When I win the Euro lottery thing tonight one of my first purchases will be a Ferrari 308 GTS or Magnum's car if you will. I've never really been enthusiastic about cars, but that baby has always appealed to me ever since I first saw Magnum. You can get them now for about £15,000. I could buy hundreds of them. It may look a bit dated inside and it's probably got a cassette player, but it's still the coolest car ever. I fancy myself as a P.I. too if P.I. stands for Predominantly Indoors. Imagine how awesome I will look though driving around Carterton in a Magnum Ferrari sporting the tash I'll grow to compliment it? I know, fucking amazing. I can hardly wait until tonight.