I like to think I'm quite profound in the dead of night.
Tonight is one such example.
I see multiple bottles of rather horrid cheap red wine (Cold Chisel?) as no impediment to my literary genius.
So I give you this piece of wisdom kiddoes:
There is a limit to how much pot one can smoke, before you become a bit of a fuckwit.
Don't harm the genetic potential of my future progeny.
Ta.
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