| | Lurker adopts a position of prayer. I don't think God is that forgiving, though. | |
| | | It was dark and I don't know how to use my camera. Sue me. | |
| | | This one almost looks arty, though. | |
|
| | EED's walk to the pub is disturbed by a nuclear airburst. | |
| | |
| | This is basically Robin's back garden. Hate him, he deserves it. | |
| | | | The usual suspects prepare for the long hike to the pub. | |
|
| | |
| | | How to cheat at the EyeToy window washing game. | |
| |
| | | Yer'honour, I believe the defendant to be a fux0r! | |
| | | Spot of late-night cookery. Not Delia Smith style, mind. | |
|
| | Muz contemplates farting on Jay's head. | |
| | | | They believe in a thing called looooove. | |
|
| | | Skeeve, looking distressingly evil, yesterday. | |
| |
| | | ... touched for the very first time. God, that's horrible. | |
| |
| | Muz battles the might of clan spam! | |
| | | (At singing Take On Me, if I recall.) | |
| | | We're livin' the Vida Loca. Which is kind of appropriate, really. | |
|
| | Jay shows us how it's done. We'd prefer if he didn't really. | |
| | |
