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Today, much to my embarrassment, I visited what can only be described as a pornographic website. I know this because, although I didn't stay on the page for long, I caught glimpse of the title, 'Hot, Wet & Willing', and a lady with none too many clothes on. She also had a sponge. To be fair to the lady, she was taking the sensible course of action. If you are hot, taking your top off has to be a good idea. Sponging yourself down with a soapy sponge is also to be applauded. But not when you are being snapped for a website that I am going to click on in an internet cafe.

I have never experienced such a scenario before. Having the internet at home (and a door), means that I never find the need to go to an internet cafe. But today was different. I needed to check my emails. I am expecting something very important. Sadly, upon opening my inbox, the very important something I am expecting wasn't there. With ten minutes still to use of my paid-for internet time, I headed over to my twitter account. I am sure you are aware that last night a dust storm hit Sydney. There are some great pictures out there. All orangey in colour. This is really when twitter comes into its own. It allows me (and you) to look at what people in Sydney are saying and allows us to look at their photos. That is exactly what I wanted to to. A simple click of the button lets me see all the Sydney-siders, many of them were linking to their photos. I clicked on a few. They were good. Then I clicked on another one. This is when I saw, 'Hot, Wet & Willing'. Some very clever person had written, '#Sydney. Look at my pics. (weblink)'. I was always going to click wasn't I?

I sat there for a few seconds, terrified of looking around. Had anyone seen me? I could feel the blood rushing to my face and a trickle of sweat running down my arm. Maybe if I just sat here for an hour, everyone would leave? I tried to pretend that nothing had happened. I revisited my email. Then read the BBC website. Five minutes passed. I was going to have to move in thirty seconds. I took a few deep breaths, stood up and, with my head bowed, moved towards the door. Suddenly I heard an excited female voice, "Jonathan Lee!" My heart leapt. I spun around. There, standing in front of me, was my old English teacher. "I thought it was you," she said, "I was looking at you from over here trying to work out whether it was you or not! How are you?"
"I'm really sorry, do I know you?"
"It's Mrs. Tovey. Your English teacher."
I shook my head.
"You are Jonathan Lee aren't you?"
"No. Sorry. You must have the wrong person. My name's...Dusty."

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