Everybody in the world has Frampton Comes Alive. If you lived in the suburbs you were issued it.

I'm enjoying Control. It's pretty good fun to play, but the story has really grabbed me.

He's my friend and a whole lot more! Ew.

Dredicus.

"Schrödinger's Jew", as David Baddiel puts it.

I was in Ibiza with some friends (we met famous drug smuggler Howard Marks in Manumission, but that's not the point of this story). One night two of us were out in San Antonio town, and on the way back to our hotel we spotted a mannequin outside a clothes shop. It was clearly bin collection day the following day, so obviously they didn't want it any more and clearly we could, indeed we must take it back to our hotel room and put it on the balcony. So we picked it up and walked back towards the hotel. I'm in front holding it across the shoulders, my mate behind me holding the legs. We're walking past bars and everyone is laughing and cheering us (drunk British people, we'll cheer anything out of the ordinary).

Then the police turn up in a van. You hear horror stories about being taken to the police station which is miles away and having to pay hundreds in fines, so I instantly become sober. One of them opens the back of the van and says, "In, in." So we put the mannequin in. In fear and trembling I ask, "What about us?"

And he just says, "You go. Go!"

I've never run so fast in my life.

If my regular Apex Legends experience applies, I've got about 30 seconds to live and no hope of my teammates reviving me.

I go to the gym three times a week. I started working out to lose weight and improve muscle mass and tone, and because I fell out of love with running. Last time was yesterday - bench press, overhead press and chin-ups. There's something primal about lifting heavy weights that makes it enjoyable (much like the other poster said about boxing).

I bought a vinyl copy of Beggars' Banquet by the Rolling Stones for 50p despite not having a record player. Fast forward six years and I now have a full stereo system, a collection worth over £10k and regularly order limited edition albums from small bands costing me large amounts each time. Send help.

Written by, and for, cunts.

There's a road near my house that has over ten barber shops on it. The road is about half a mile long. I'm not sure of the percentage, but they can't all be legit.

Yay, good to see Zach cartoons have made it to Lemmy.