I’ve always wanted to call someone hagioscope. Not a hagioscope, mind you, just… hagioscope.
Ok, so that’s not entirely true. I only just discovered and learned the word tonight. Still, it’s now stuck in my head like Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now, going round and round like a three-legged dog tethered to a parking meter, burning like the vanity of a model afflicted with spontaneous alopecia, dying to be used like a cheap wh…
Er. Where was I? Oh, right. Happy birthday to me mate Simon, the free-falling mackin’ maniac.
Well thank you sir. Although I’m not sure what prompted you to call _me_ a hagioscope, but hey. As near as I can tell, it’s not an insult, so…