I've spent the last hour trying to dispossess the established Malaysian leading kiwifruit journalists with my indepth research into the kiwifruit sector. I did not, however, realize what sort of passionate outbursts that small fuzzy brown fruit could inspire.
Curse you, Italy, for stealing New Zealand's national product.
Tasha Beg is not impressed.
In the minimized chat window to the left, the delightful-as-ever Justin André Privé tells me about some punk band during 'the good old days', and somehow that conversation has shifted into the nostalgic joys of preteenage masturbation.
No wonder I never get any work done around here with you folks harassing me like this and providing me with illicit workplace giggles. You fruity folks.