27/06/2013 - LEAVE IT TO THE PODIATRISTS

            Leave it to the podiatrists to make a masterpiece out of numbers and introspective chaos. They make coveted whelps by the dozen just for the greeting cards list. This inspired me to hire a rooftop patrol for recovering pirates, they observe ambulances as if emergencies were birds to be watched. There are usually cops on duty stuff their faces with small potatoes so at least there's some elementary safety preserved. This pirate, the one to the far left, is heading out on a school run; she doesn't have a child, she just caters for playgrounds. We could call it a geographic feat of super strength but assassins come down to scare away any remaining fatherhood from the miniature masses. It's time to knock it off, knock it down, shoot it up and shoot it offside. British taste.

            Don't share this scientist's drive-thru idea with the goons at the door, they'll just sound the alarm and kneel down to reach for terrorised tools. I'm not exactly certain how bedding the logic makes a tiny profit in spite of equal animatronics, all it does is hit the street. Pleasing the boasters corrects the grammar and makes short work of syntax. You don't end with an implication, you end with a hearty supposition. Let's accept it while we're still hopped up on teleportation river dances. That way its only kind of lame.

            The inherent bloopers, oh the inherent bloopers. They sprout antlers all over my cherished foreheads, my children of the space bar. They obliterate any chance of me ever making a good scheme that's actually worth a damn, a dam and a van dyke. Molluscs come and take them all away eventually but I just don't have the time to wait around and play with my dulling apparel. There's much to do that involves Irish Whiskey and displacement theories that actually reapply themselves on a shifty, slinky basis. If you have an opening go for it, if you don't go to Dewsbury. This is the holy place of elastic dates, a melting pot of reading and friends and wills to transpire and conspire. They made stadiums out of such material when it was mixed in with chicken soup and tarmac. It's fragrant to say the least, pungent provided your nostrils are not working idly. The courses are as below, a delectable garrison of their very own tape recorder instruments. Agree or fly.

            Glory be to you my most inedible director, glory be to your offspring and pliable ideology. The cake decorations are coming to town to show us how best to repurpose scripted screen material, how to be most adequate with the storage facility. The codes are coming forth to split the diodes into tachyon predications. At the point our world will swell with beards and even the pocket dimensions will chafe with red raw minutes of scratch. How hell turns us over, how babes swat at diaper commercials in spite of their lawyer's testimonies. If you please, if you please go out into the damp.