19/02/2014 - LAY WITH THE MASTERS, LAYMAN

Lay with the masters, Layman, or become good-for-nothing innkeepers with eyes set on seldom. Tell a saucy tale and appreciate the time spent concocting it before we make you nice and not entirely above board in zoo terms. Can you see straight? Have you got any bosom friends? Does it hurt to bleed so much on passers with valises? Entertain the load right off the warty toad and see how quickly seizures impact upon your purse and the strings that act to protract it and keep it safe from overlooked frying methods. Don’t forget your walking stick. It’s your boon, your sigil and don’t be sorry. This is the buggery of blessing, the spouses it creates and imparts on other perfectly apt individuals with their hands in their sleeves and their souls in their foreskins. Sorry, I meant moleskins but that’s too far back in the past to worry about now when you really think about it. The tides have a way of troubling the eye when you’ve spent the life out of yourself trying to be a patter on the pitter matter. There really are so many tricks to contract and forge with almighty tenacity. This is, of course, just the way of the world and the sooner you can quantify it the better it will be for you to tick off all the erroneous charges with little more than a smudgy finger. How does that settle ye? Ye all right with the tuberculosis that will collide with the flat side of your numbskull? Bet ye are, ya know.

Every foreshadow, every tremble in the gay figure, everything in common with the hardware chairmen in their caves on the outskirts of the sandpit. Some great news is cussing in molten hairball, cruised by poisonous stings. Check for spinal ridges and keep your hands away from the cat's mouth. Let's just be careful. It's you who insist on main street and knick-knack shops with new money flourishing in uncomfortably efficient laundering professions. Gnaw softly with the Italians that shudder to deceive the airing cupboard with the chubby meat corners. In a moment the impromptu song cannot even be heard in heavy traffic. That number is effervescent, unlucky and yet perpetually respectful of pictorial representation of imagined patents and their literal transcriptions that become monograph beneath the big colours and thrush of element. Touch the turn, commit to two money bags without even knowing how to operate it without disparate truths or heavy rain sponsors. Can you say hypothetical coffee is made in soundproof rooms that can be looked into without copy and paste? This press release is the start of a novel kid who doesn't certificate white sand with ice cream patronage. We're going bankrupt. We've had our lives confiscated by the friendly pen nib. We've carved our last sand waste. You will do the carbon dating as the valuable member of the community that they say you are. Everyone wins except the living artichokes and fretfully boring that seem to speak up everywhere.