19/12/2013-20/12/2013 - NOUGHT FOR TWELVE

Nought for twelve, according to the Plaintive Day while played with golden rings within its range. A drunk drove into a tree and yet this is the kind of news that spreads with butter-like intensity all over the grim side of New York toast? My niggles are flecked so go on. My irritability has found an entirely new voice to trail on and lead on various kings and kindly widowers ahead of their chain store inquiries. The floor needs mopping down and the walls need arming with trembling genre five irons. The mmmother has a good windfall lying in wait for her next of kin to discover when she next has a bath which could be any second now and we at the precinct wouldn’t notice or even want postcards depicting it with vibrant red-nosed pictures. We’re not all perverts which is to say that I am not as perverted as this pickled world seems to be. I just sell hats.

This is a quiet work surface and doesn’t deserve the grief it gets from political scientists whenever they feel so inclined to tear it asunder with ultraviolet glasses on and someone’s headache breaking off into feathery flakes and dimorphic concrete. This is a tupenny and it lies behind the ear of every man and woman who wants to overcome gender obstacles with a withered old stick and an off-season attempt at humour. Equality has never seemed so touching as when it is spilling out of your clone gap teeth and all the frozen conceits that make you a walking, standing, wrangling chap. The little children of the town want to thank you for making their beds in the evening and then disappearing before any temptation might be had either way. Fortunately for us we still run the appropriate tests and screen your lambasted daily direction before it gets out to the media at large. That would do us no good and leave the man with the silly hat in a hot sticky room with nothing but earwigs for company and perhaps a few sandworms for guests. The heart leaves footnotes, the hearth leaves headers.

The Chinese Embassy want to draw a discussion back towards your vicinity because, and I quote, you rectangles are plunging the oblong age into a state of icy depravity. Last time we checked, you had this matter covered so what happened exactly? Did a future version of an alternative group of individuals decide to come back and reduce public roll call for the sake of crashing a nobody’s life? You are a nobody for the sole purpose of running away at the first sign of painting over lifetime achievement awards. This is the biggest wheel, the one that’s been in the cloth in my hand the whole time. I bet you don’t see that trick often in the Seychelles, at least not when its hot and rough out. Inclusion is a funny word in that it produces a sensation of togetherness from what is ultimately a rather mundane squish of letters. Everyone knows include but inclusion sounds like a wonderful thing to read when you’re having a life crisis. You do know though that he last place to the concert has been booked by me and a few of my less trustworthy men? We make our meetings very fast.

This is an object of recurrence, that which is an essay tucked into the back of a wash basin for the sake of a whaler’s dark secret, the one that involves a karaoke act featuring a certain mister with a duck bill and we all like to think that it was somehow your doing along with mine. Great times think alike and thicken the whiffle at most failed beer fests. Sometimes its nice to return to old tricks like the Chinese Embassy say. Mr Thank is a genius and I have no bag straps around or indeed across my face.

The gristles is coming down in price or so I’ve heard whilst reading my white hair fix for puppetry troubles? I eventually got back to the promised mountains and was overrun by a great golf tournament that didn’t even think to invite me! So, as of now I’m going to do something smelly in the bathroom. No shit on the walls though and that is fine by me.

            The condition is fast and critical and rifling through a week is like rifling through a hardworking W/C with your hands unbitten and your belt buckle shining off the remainder of the week. The fifteen year old boy will arrive at the rabies with scabies and go immediately off the phone just be there and strong with foggy door control. Don’t weep now my cherished darling, don’t let your head be municipal while there’s a front to be milled. I told you I’m not hungry but we is a big conglomerate word and she is a beautiful word with a fat ass. What set you back? The road? It can make things happen for you, especially on Christmas Eve. Not that I don’t like working with you, it’s just that I’m a Jewish cat with payback slapped higgledy piggledy on the mind. That’s a bad storm, an ill storm with rhythmic body parts that does good things for the sake of a barking invasion.

            You believe in the lines of coming true and the wilful abandon will try to get underneath your shirt and shorts and the really real hairy between you and that gangrenous heart of yours. I don’t really believe that your heart is gangrenous, it’s what’s on the memo. Let’s be good and alone with a fat man with a beard that tangles in willow trees and demands makeover newspapers. He is coming down, the writer of the memo, and he is blessed with skimmed knees and tumultuous feedback emanating from his cranium corpus. Since that time I became valedictorian and returned to rule this planet with greying hair and planet-sized toilettes. Don’t see the leaves, they hate napkins.