I'M being hampered by my sordid past.
I yearn to turn over a new leaf and reinvent myself as a decent and solid person - only too many people know about the mistakes I've made.
My mates still call me Fiasco (or Fi for short). I don't think half of them know my real name.
Even my mum and dad have absolutely no respect for me.
They remember the times I was dragged home drunk, hospitalised for drug-taking and sacked from endless jobs.
They can recall the names of all the girlfriends I hurt and abandoned - because they were the ones giving them tea and sympathy while I was out shagging the next conquest.
I'm the first to admit that I've screwed up more times than a Black and Decker.
But now I need to change. I've met someone special, someone who has no concept of the knobhead I used to be.
Esta historia es de la edición January 26, 2024 de Daily Star.
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Esta historia es de la edición January 26, 2024 de Daily Star.
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