"Where's the paper shop?"
Having a chronic gambling problem and having to use your Mastercard to buy the Sunday paper for $1.80:
Priceless
One of our favourite "grandsons" who just got his licence recently likes to make quite a spectacle of himself, this time taking off spinning his wheels, spitting up rocks in the street, smoke billowing out the exhaust pipe, speeding up for an intersection, rather than slowing down, the smell of burning rubber lingering long after he has gone.
It is only a matter of time.
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