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They say life begins at forty, so in seven months' time I should become alive and invigorated, right?
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But judging by the current state of affairs, my memory is suffering from a slow, drawn-out death.
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Take this morning for example.
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For some reason, this guy popped into my head:
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Don't ask me why.
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Maybe it's because I have a slight fixation with his un-naturally white veneer teeth I watched "Britain's Got More Talent Most Talented" yesterday.
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And here's the thing.
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I couldn't for the life of me remember his surname.
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Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... CALLOW !
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.No, he's a famous Shakesperean actor.
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Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... BATES !
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.No, he's a radio dj on Classic FM, formerly famous in the Eighties.
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Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... SHEPHERD !
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No, he's a tv actor, again, famous in the Eighties.
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Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... COWELL !
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And then that made me think of one of these.
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A religous cowl.
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And that means the next time I forget his surname, I shall probably think;
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Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... Simon .... MONK !
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