Via lifesizemonkey, who must have been really bored at work:

I am: Dave. Choose your own prefix.

I want: Money. That's what I want.

I wish: I could play something so I could be in a band. I've been asked too, honestly.

I hate: Anyone who thinks they know what's good for me better than I do. This means, pretty much, every politician who's ever lived.

I miss: Being able to ride a tricycle without ridicule.

I fear: Deep fried and battered food. Because, really, anything could be inside that golden coating.

I hear: The hum of the computer and the gurgling of the heating.

I wonder: Whatever happened to that guy from Due South.

I regret: Not being born a Spelling. Hey, they guy shipped snow in every Christmas for his kids.

I dance: Rarely. Apparently not too badly, if a little over-enthusiastically.

I sing: Only when there is nobody anywhere near me. Or if the music's too loud for you to hear.

I cry: At the end of Cyrano De Bergerac.

I am not always: Right - I just make out that I am.

I make with my hands: Paper helicopters and pretty pictures.

I confuse: Myself from time to time.

I need: To tidy the sofa.

I should: Turn off my TV set and do something less boring instead.

I start: And you're bloody lucky if you can get me to finish.

I finish: About three hours after you've stopped listening.

I love: Good coffee and sunshine.

I remember: What desert smells like; grinning into the heart of a thunderstorm; seeing Aberdeen win the Cup Winners' Cup and my first and last kiss. Amongst other things.

...

Could people please shut the fuck up about Doctor Who being a dad? He was a grandfather, therefore he was a father. Plus, he's fucking fictional.

Dave xx

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