I’ve already written about my recent flurry of sung tics. Most of the time I pay little attention to the constant noises I make, but every now and again I say something that really makes me smile, and even feel pleased to have said it. Earlier, while I was working away on the computer, I sang:
“I love my bear and I love my mum and the Blackpool illumination sky.
I love nicking horses from the Rhinestone Cowboys and I love talking sheep into sex.”
I’m not sure exactly what this means but it’s too good to ignore.