What this situation had needed, what it had been audibly crying out for, was a glaikit, baw-faced, irritating, clumsy, thick, ginger-heided bastard...
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PS picked up two more Christopher Brookmyre books. Truly the man is a genius. He's like Irvine Welsh, except more readably and totally hilarious.
The man's spellchecker must be in tears.
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