I seem to have some really odd Special Powers. I can walk into a strange pub, buy the last few tickets for the meat raffle, and win — much to the chagrin of the regulars. I can also create inappropriate mental images which then persist.
Like “masturbating to tentacle pr0n”.
This morning, his column Hey, it wasn’t that bad, quotes me by name.
It is, as I say, a Special Power.
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