I Haven't Done My Beef, Chris.

I regret referencing Indiana Jones and I don't think I'll do it again. If I'm leaving the house to go in your car, I have to factor in time to go and put stuff in the recycling bin. It's like a bin on wheels. Tungem in the door as well. In the rubber. Still there, though, isn't it? I still see it. You know, just drive somewhere without grazing and drinking and just doing stuff. The man probably slags us off behind me back because I'd rather take him in the car and sit in the car park and be on me for a read of magazine while he sleeps. There you are. 1984. I