LIFE OF THE WAR CORRESPONDENT

As read in your Daily Newspaper. There's a demon driving me on. His pointed horns poking my arse. I sit here on my Baghdad Greenzone travelodge balcony typing like a madman as another car bomb goes off so close it can light up my cigar. The room service are now crouched in the cellar with their hands over their ears. After the first bombardment the howling began, it hasn't stopped since. But still my pecker throbs. Maybe it's the adrenaline, the fear, or perhaps young Ali under the table licking my lollipop!

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