03/09/2013 - LIKE MOST MEN THROUGHOUT HISTORY

Like most men throughout history I am a nation unto myself. I am an island beset upon by teeming llama produce, by sawn-off reductionism and even by the by-line of angel feathers. I have learned to drive the truck of my cognitive displacement through this by sounding an alarm to set off the fantasies that lurch around inside my marbles; if anyone can supersede their graphics they can. It's just as well too, the route to AREA 26 is riddled with rattling post boxes that walk the streets with a haunting aspect to them. I refuse to be led astray by them, I am unafraid of their fiscal analogies. It is simply a case of saying sorry that resurrects the promising demons, the horned one requires a little more than I can give at this time. Believe me, demons are easier to handle than empty post boxes, more benevolent in the face of chagrins. Chagrins never stop down where I come from, they burn smiles for miles and miles. So says the scripture that nobody bothered to check for and read but me. It's like I'm the only one listening to the Forty Fathers. They spent hours in their den cobbling together and scribbling down instructions on how to exist without their relevant input and this is the way we treat them. Well, not we, just you scum. I claim to be better than all of you and quite rightly too, I'll say. I have the ingredients that will spell out your wakening but I shan't give them to you unless the Gods dictate it to be so. More particularly, I am waiting for a big, booming SO MOTE IT BE.

 

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Some words calm my nerves more than others, especially when issued from a fat woman's lips. She isn't so much obese as she is frumpy, she is a walking, chewing armchair and I'm alright with that. What the doctor orders but never orders is a woman set up like the world's largest tree stump. Her hug is just as stiff and barky but whatever she chooses to say will lower the blood temperature like a click on a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich's lips.  She says 'MEIN' and I'll be happy. She'll say 'GAMEY' and I am happy. She could sing the entire chorus of WHAT A DANGEROUS CAST INTERVIEW AM I and I would be the happiest chap in all of South London. Some women are like that: you don't want to bonk them but they know where the kind language needs to be applied. I have come up with a term for it, a word: maternal. Sounds good right? I checked the dictionary and there were a few close approximations but I think I've cornered the market on that one. Yes, maternal fat ladies can heal the veins and arteries so they don't pop and twerk as much. I have so much stress in my life what with the heavy responsibility to the Forty Fathers and being my own continent.