(The grey words are real time tics – please concentrate on the black text.)
Biscuit, biscuit, biscuit I am going biscuit to do I’m a biscuit tonight’s entry biscuit slightly differently. I love biscuits Normally biscuits writing is the only time my biscuits love biscuits tics don’t get in the way biscuit of what I’m trying to say biscuit, biscuit because biscuit I don’t include them. But biscuit tonight my entry biscuit, biscuit is about my frustration with biscuits so I’m a biscuit, biscuit, biscuit I’m writing down every time I tic biscuit biscuit-related tics.
This evening bisscuuiiit I was working on something with biscuit I’m a biscuit Leftwing Idiot biscuuuitttts and because I was exhausted and frustrated, I was struggling to biscuit concentrate. Biscuit, biscuit, biscuit, biscuit I fought to get my thoughts clear in my mind and explain the points I wanted biscuit to make I love biscuits but this was made extremely difficult by my tics. Hands up if you love biscuit’s. Squares love biscuits.
In the end Leftwing Idiot called a halt to what we were biscuit doing biscuit and said we were biscuit both too worn out to carry on. Biscuit, biscuit I started to cry, he gave me a hug biscuit and like all good hugs when you’re upset, this made me cry more. Biscuit I felt overwhelmingly frustrated and as I sobbed I continued to shout ‘biscuit’ busy biscuit. All I wanted was to stop saying biscuit – but I couldn’t. What I did say biscuuuuitsss, biscies was:
“Don’t say biscuits. Biscuits,” followed by “If you say biscuit one more time I’m going to kill you. Biscuit.” I love biscuits.
For the record, I’m fairly indifferent to biscuits.