Wednesday 21 August 2013

21/08/2013 - THY LOATHSOME GRIDLOCK!


Thy loathsome gridlock! Thy torrent of virtuous ineptitude! Thy cracked cheeks of Holy Communion chest reflexes! Thee and thou are to dance with dervish dodgers tonight and don’t let me hear a word of it while you do!

Your monkish tendencies will be put to better use, like arched knuckles on the wet undersides of piano keys. Do you hear the thirst of lightning? It threatens to electrocute the music with its trumped up charges and phone calls to the police that never really seem to go very far if anywhere at all. If you look in my eyes, you’ll see a thee who is yearning to get out. I haven’t worn britches in seventeen months and I think I deserve the moment to reclaim this whimsical perpetration. The waters are calm and the glaring sunshine isn’t exactly going anywhere, not for the vampires certainly. So let me be a woman dressed as a man trying to cut it because the Bechdel Test reveals a big insufferable truth! Let mine eyes behold a travesty that lays at the very topknot of three homeless jackanapes! Downtrodden is the way to go and will make my teeth glimmer and maybe even triumph over allergies of the mute.

 

At this awkward time I shall step in as a new narrator. I am one who is less inclined to bugger Shakespeare with ripped-up sonnets, I have a healthy deal of respect for any man with a short, back and sides the bard had. From what I’ve heard in the grimy sasquatch valley, this guy was the most notorious beard wearer to ever walk on hallowed ground. I don’t even think he was religious! I don’t even think he was lucid! Right now it seems just as likely that he had wide green fangs as he was any of the previously mentioned things. I am a baby when it comes to dandy speculation, I suckle anything with a nib. What I will say though is that I don’t like these fancy schmancy indentations, I prefer my paragraphs to be blocky and rather blue and scrawled in crawly wording. As an honorary member of the Skirt Adjustment Squad I feel it is my civic duty to let you all know, fine people that you are, that if I see any coattails out of place I’m legally bound to strap you up to the nearest carrier bags handle. Don’t worry it’s moderately quaint and hardly painful at all. Why, my stepchildren did it just the other day and they seem alright, a bit sore but definitely alright. I make them stay in the cupboard whenever they mislead tourists like they did so the little blighters got off lucky, one less day in obscure darkness. Anyway, are any of you out there toadies? I’ve never met a toady before, thought I’d quite like one. So if there are any toadies out there, bear in mind NOT roadies, then please mark a path to the front and we’ll strut in the rye. Wonderful.

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