Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday... I'm totally going back to bed, smiting will commence when I leave my cave-like dwelling for birthday salubrious libations and the consumption of noodles.
edit: Happy birthday to you too Shanks. You still smell of goatse.
Smiting was done, noodles were consumed, Hannah made me a cake that she left in Dundee. Alas my birthday presents did not include the winning lottery ticket (curses!). All in all it was a good birthday. Except for the lack of cake.
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