23/09/2013 - THE BABY LOSES ITS CELEBRITY

                The baby loses its celebrity with every pointless advert it advocates. Occasionally the boredom comes on you like a precious metal feeling up calcium sulphate, it turns the ladies on something Lilliputian. I once was larger than the river and more forgotten than the Apache Nook. We often go dogging for the sake of epileptic foodstuff and the way that it satiates our misanthropic children. It's a new star. A new star is coming through, they've been saying but  it's hard to find the pinch of salt to take that statement with so we gulp down another spoonful of sugar. Wouldn't it be amazing to combine the two, make a lyric out of it? Nobody would care but at least we would care in some insignificant light. Do you feel the heat of the big yellow circle crossing and locking up your shoulders? Does it make you feel like a man reminded of his impending mortality? It really is all about mitosis, provided you can get a decent tractor to handle it. Lawnmowers never count so don't try to scratch yourself to win one as a prize. It's just too whimsical.

                So off me at the pub lunch, take a knife with a jagged step and launch it at my forehead, just between the dimples. That would be where I keep my diplomatic decision making skills and mail so you would be doing us all a favour. Preserve the governing body by extracting the right section of pain and let it feed into you with gusto. Otherwise it'll shoot its mouth off in public and see the curve of crepes in the glow of Golden Delicious.

              Boss, what are you doing? You've come back to Africa just to tell the workers to think for themselves and shut up about offshore accounting difficulties. It's a timewaster, a matriarchy in the making. The retailers are doing what they can to keep up hegemony but there's no telling where the next few hours of visual beatitude might take us. The factory is clean for all pencil types but contains one dirty little section for videogames and the like. It's not a warm war museum after all, it's a decadent's hideaway in the UK. All the way round you'll see the bastions and their cataracts manifesting themselves in purple snooker pockets. Our boys down in the science lab have a name for it, the effect: GORE. This isn't hydrogen, it's the real sick stuff that shuts out all stiffs and emotional squares. Here they come which is to say here it comes.

                I once saw a black man and a white man and a yellow man and a man with tattoos all across his face talking about the red man as if he were a minority. I was inclined the refuse any further extensions on their holidays for such obvious racial broadcasting. You told me not to though so at least I've done this one thing you asked.

                I'll go sit down and join a convent.