02/07/2013 - FROM HENCEFORTH

                From henceforth the royalty calling dates shall be dispatched via daffodil displacement theories and you'll have none of it. That is the probable conclusion and the ex-husband is bitter because that's the way you always end your arguments, with a growl and a splinter. It's been how many years now since the last time you smoked a spliff? What went through your mind at the time of transference, during the course of your being cheery and then your being absolutely fucking furious?  At no point was it a spiffy show, wot wot. My daughter tells me you tried to choke her with breadsticks and started an outrageous comeback tour for a service you've never glared out. That's the sort of thing I make deputies out of, that and sticky back bits of hardwood.

            The drag of the matter is that the scanner is down and won't climb up again until you've knocked some sense into Britney with a rolled-up comic. She responds well to race cars and cocks but she won't do until she's battered all over. It's not my sentiment, it's the scanner's. Blame that blinking heap of ironic technology for bad behaviour and foul perceptions of women in the media. Trust me, it'll bend unto your will for definite and that ain't no lie. I assume.

            Still the owls have good news about the screen scenery and all its flaky Irish curtains. They've sacked the handyman and replaced him with an upright steam train to see if that'll keep this dull old set of squeaky boards stuck into training. My guess is probably not but then that's probably not a lot to say when you think about the guesses I usually make. As it turns out, I'm a very spiteful old druid.

            Say! Let's go see about the rams in the stadium! Let's see if the dew has come off their nipples yet and if the wool will just up and quit! I'm willing to believe that the sentience of plush overalls is an overwrought metaphor for contingency plans in quadraphonic massage parlours. If you please, I'll just bend over and best myself until the pledges come rushing up and around the passport detection services. These guys wouldn't know a cervix if it came and rasped out a horrendous alternative to them. The power of the pussy is big and live but not for children or their sensitive daddy. It takes a chopped up credit card to fraternize with such sordid material, for those men. Sheesh are they squeezed?

            However it is duly responded to that my vampire list maker has detected a small deviation on the static bowler hat. Permission to board the rim, slut. Permission, as always, granted. You are a success in every scullery and damn those whittled corners that always get you down with their trippy side effects. At least you're not a flapper or a teddy boy or a person with an incriminating knighthood. Here's the tip of a bullion for you if things ever should change.