Sophie's PDP Blog.

So far we've been talking about Swpnil's Crack Den, full of crack whores, some dead. The guy here in the first ear doesn't want to join in.

It seems to be a challenge writing AND talking. We're just typing, looking at each other from time to time, and I am grinning inanely.

Lorraine threw out the subject, "Paris"

I said about when I went last year. Swpnil feels like that chick, Sarah Jessica Parker. He doesn't look much like her. Apparently he has an interior monologue. Swpnil's reading his out, that's ruining it, tut. He's saying I went with my lovers. What a guy.

Can can dancing throw their legs everywhere to entice you into the moulin rouge. This is his fantasy.

There's music in the screening room next door. It sounds like the monolith from 2001 or something. With a big heartbeat.

We're talking about Pro-plus with the first years. They reckon it's like propa drugz innit. That poor boy hasn't slept much or eaten much. I think the last bit is a lie from looking at him.

Scrubs - he's watching the whole season? No, just a couple of episodes. Swpnil is now lying to the first year, saying that he and I had a scrubs sleepover.

What's Marian Meyer got to do with the writers' room, got to do with it?! Swpnil is creating gold, the little alchemist that he is. Oh, his blog. Well we shall see.

Swpnil last kissed his mother. Which is like kissing your sister but older. Not kissing my sister. Swpnil would so drown in my sisters. He's get lost under a boob.

Oh yeh. Swp met a french girl on saturday who works in the cantene, with the hat, works in the sandwich stall. She came over to his and did the double french kiss while he was talking. FAUX PAS, He didn't know whether to carry on talking or to put the conversation on hold while he kissed her face. What went wrong? He lied again. He said snot.

"Hey, can you text me my phone number, XXX"

§ oh severn nein ate to severn to nein ate phiphty phife §

end of game.
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