I'm Hez, I'm 17 and I'm a thoroughbred Mancunian. I've somehow managed to spend the best part of the last half a year in my kitchen; drinking cups of tea and contemplating the rest of the year with Cat and various other Reddish-ites, which is a lot more satisfying than it sounds. 2008 was actually fucking amazing, so its all about making 2009 even better.
I don't think I'm individual, but I'm ridiculously wierd, I love Paris, but hate the French and I take the piss out of people who talk about myspace in real life, even though I do it myself.
If you want to be hounded about tennis, I'm your man.
Broadbottom Saturdays and Frisky Fridays have become the staples of my week and I'm currently living off a diet that consists almost exclusively of Actimel, chicken broth and Malibu. Beautiful.
If you're a jealous girlfriend, I really don't even want to fucking know.
Oh, and Xaverian college is fucking awesome.
"But Paris, Paris was a universe whole and entire unto herself, hollowed and fashioned by history; so she seemed in this age of Napoleon III with her towering buildings, her massive cathedrals, her grand boulevards and ancient winding medieval streets- as vast and indestructible as nature itself. All was embraced by her, by her volatile and enchanted populace thronging the galleries, the theatres, the cafes, giving birth over and over to genius and sanctity, philosophy and war, frivolity and the finest art; so it seemed that if all the world outside her were to sink into darkness, what was fine, what was beautiful, what was essential might there still come to its finest flower. Even the majestic trees that graced and sheltered her streets were attuned to her- and the waters of the Seine, contained and beautiful as they wound through her heart; so that the earth on that spot, so shaped by blood and consciousness, had ceased to be the earth and had become Paris."
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