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  • So I've got ear hair.

    There used to be a 'displaced person' who'd stagger about Nottingham with tufts of hair foaming from within his ears - the standard place of origin. He seemed delirious enough for it to not be of any concern, assuming he'd even noticed, but I could do nothing else when I saw him. I'm sure he's dead now, most likely from it garotting him like in Revenge Of The Vine Leaves.

    Mine has yet to fester in the depths of my ear - instead it's crawling up the entire rear of both, so flaps behind me like discarded bunting when I'm at speed on the bike. I caught a glimpse of the extent of it in a lift earlier in Zara - not often that a high-street retailer bathes you in pathos, but it beats rummaging through the sales tat.

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