masthead image - an open book



Player Active
8 Sep 16 - 19 Nov 16



He told me to #lick my fingers to blur my prints and it'd be a 50/50 split. He's fled with the dosh and the Police are at my door. @130story

I didn't want to #deliver the news but I had no choice. Quivering like jelly, I said: 'There's no more ice-cream.' End of party. @130story

Ours was the first house on the street wired for electricity. Dad could only afford one room but it was our moment to shine. @130story

I wish Google Maps would allow some 'getting #lost time' in their routes. Surely no-one goes A-B without a hiccup? Just me? @130story

'Is there any mast-ard,' he asked plummily. 'What a plonker,' she thought, squeezing chili sauce onto her kebab. @130story

It's just a muscle, nothing more. Once swollen with the pain of your barbed words, now flattened into rhythmic submission. @130story

He liked the joint medium-rare, oozing blood; she preferred it well-done. When he left she burned the roast: blood turned to dust @130story

It took years to build the family; the marriage at its heart. A mild flirtation and a single kiss smashed it to smithereens. @130story