Remember How Nose-Picking Female Noun Rerouted Perfectly Good Sewage System. So I killed myself and set fire to the body fourteen times, to make sure no one found the evidence. And Man, for whom philosophy was a passion endured, did curse his enigmatic Creator and did throw a hissy fit of apostasy. Deep Beneath The Earth's Core, Sandwich Denying Moped Gang Insisted On Organic Sour Dour Pizza Or Nothing. Underneath this were visible cricket leg pads, and a crotch guard with a crudely drawn smiley face on it. All these cricket references weren’t doing anything to help either. I was to learn, much later, that my mother, a strange creature whose sanity had been permanantly compromised after a tragic incident with a goose inspector and a fire hazard, and about 23 years of alcoholism, was at that time labouring under the intriguing misapprehension that badgers had a penchant for angel delight. <br><br>