St Ives or Bust  
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St Ives, September 2004; sophisticated, debonair, elegant. None of these adjectives apply.

Where to start, whose turn is it to come under the magnifying glass. Usually we don’t have a problem here do we, finding the weekend's victim? If we’re going to be honest, it’s Pants, hands down with mebbe Dan sneaking in from behind. But St Ives, well I just don’t know, your man was remarkably well behaved, it was as if he had been snatched by aliens; really square aliens. Maybe he was just recovering from the shock of the inevitable “probe” but whatever the reason, Pants it wasn't.

  So, who? It has been said that is as gender bias in the reporting of these dive weekends, and this month the women are fair crying out for a fair crack of the whip, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
Am I the only person who sees a bunch of bananas in this picture?
    Honest to god I have a text on my phone from KLD, right in front of me now, which reads “Apparently Dave is Nick’s bitch, and I suck or blow, I don’t care”. That’s what happens when you arrive at the Saturday afternoon drinks too late, you miss the context.     Its all about context.  
However, with the benefit of hindsight, some sketchy notes and a slick of incriminating photos, the Diver of the Month is, without a doubt, please stand up and take a bow, our Sal.
Source: Deepthroat
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