03/08/2013 - THE ELEMENTS WERE IN CHARGE

The elements were in charge of the grown-ups, forcing them into dosey doe labour camps. It’s complicated to dispatch, worth the whole while going over the edge like it did. Still we retain the rights to the Bearded Man until such a time as he gets over the clock and under the rudder. He’s our own lovable pound of flesh, our well-wishing sidewinder of a swimmer with gills to match his medallion collection. He frequently apologies for the extremes of his sport but nevertheless refuses to acknowledge the dark side of our dancing cowboy workforce and instead opts to play the national anthem over and over again until the chicken-faced liars among us cover his dirty tracks for him. We are crowd-sourcing for better options and perhaps a better candidate of our efforts. Perhaps someone French.

The ones that come to mind are negligee models straddling old oak dining tables with a modest Black Malaysian family shrinking away in the background. Their walls are cream-coloured and covered in tape marks. We choose focus on them rather than the models because it takes nineteen ounces of energy to spot the sprites and we’re not going to waste our frivolous down payment any further. Go Team Syncopate! Constipation in the Netherlands never looked so good and who else would know what to do anyway? Our lists go out to them, our slippery bra cups of scribbled shorthand. We know what it’s like to feel shanghaied so we’ll start at fifty three and go on from there. It looks nice but there’s really no accounting for our outer extremities’ taste. More often than not it’s not worth a Midas cliché. We’ll scratch the triage and move into the cutlass school funding. It makes a star out of all of us. Kibble too.

You see that? Vans, vans, vans, vans, vans, white vans, an epidemic of white vans. No wait, a pandemic. We’re upping the ante here, the bronze has smacked the water’s surface and the pretty lass with a British record is asking for her chances of survival. We wouldn’t say it was bleak, more like indigestion of the soul. Pirates are usually capable of saving pretty lasses but we’ll have to see how they approach the bits and bobs. Mascara always scares them; it grinds them down with ballpark figures and wifely duties. A big nose loses no strength, in some cases it helps matters surge forward.

You still see that? The grizzled man in the big white van is laughing at us with a swine’s left hook. It cuts deep with hidey hole logistics, we’ll make for a mighty update yet and that’s a promise. Can’t we just free style for a little while? Just a small segment of operative time? The day and age will live on without us, will continue with its scissors of perdurable madness. The wielder is a thief but a fine thief and we recognise his right to whine accordingly. His children have left him but his wife has not.