It wasn't a beautiful face. But it was a nice face. It wasn't a face that could launch a thousand ships. Maybe two ships and a small yacht.
Grant NaylorYour explanation for anything slightly odd is aliens,' said Lister. 'You lose your keys, it's aliens. A picture falls off the wall, it's aliens. That time we used up a whole bog roll in a day, you thought that was aliens.
Grant NaylorJust a pot noodle. Oh - and I found a tin of dog food on the tool shelf.'
Misery hissed through Lister's gritted teeth. 'Well,' he said finally. 'Pretty obvious what gets eaten last. I can't stand pot noodles.
Lister patted the towel rail against his left palm. 'I'm going out like I came in - screaming and kicking.'
'You can't whack Death on the head.'
'If he comes near me, I'll rip his tits off.
Why d'you say "Mayday"? It's just a bank holiday. Why not "Shrove Tuesday" or "Ascension Sunday"? He turned back to the communicator. 'Ascension Sunday... Ascension Sunday.' He thought for a while and then tried: 'The fourteenth Wednesday after Pentecost... The fourteenth Wednesday after Pentecost...
Grant NaylorTwelve!!! Twelve years old!!? When you lost your virginity, you were twelve???'
'Yeah.'
'Twelve??' Rimmer stared into the fire. 'Well, you can't have been a full member of the golf club, then.
It wasn't a beautiful face. But it was a nice face. It wasn't a face that could launch a thousand ships. Maybe two ships and a small yacht. That was, until she smiled. When she smiled, her eyes lit up like a pinball machine when you win a bonus game. And she smiled a lot.
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