SatOhUrFriDay

eight more words until the end of this sentence. nine more 'til the end of this one as well. but only six to the end of this one. five to the end of this.... oh; song of the smart-arse, she says. numeric-pretension, she says. you just a typist, she says, no writer. but he is right he argues. and he's got a point too. and he's a right to type whatever he wants here. no he hasn't they shout. and he won't anymore - the punctuation company's moving in with their question mark: look?