hanging inches from a pie

guess who’s coming? it’s not physically possible but it’ll keep me going for at least couple of weeks. look over there. the bit at the front is just horrible. never mind. back on track and back to the box. cough. excuse me madam

it was so nice I just had to slip out for an hour and lurk around the bus stop trying to find tattoos, which was easy, but the sun was in the wrong place so they all looked like I’d masked them out on purpose, which they deserved, but it doesn’t make my book bigger. there’s a son for sale next door. he’s been up before but the angels spake and he hid under the carpet of spiritualism until 760044.

wah wah. hat. fast pace. see you down the pub. I never knew it was so big. of course, there it is. you know those people who decide to wear drainpipes on their stick-thin legs and cap their feet with converse? that’s you that is.

it was a lovely day for a wedding but that car was just stupid. there you go, tottering into the workshop with your brick and bangles. and you’re driving too fast. inexplicably everything stopped for moment and a red fiesta with a cherry on top reversed into the resident’s parking spot and out popped the biggest hair in christendom but she looked nice, not like that lot. ah, I see you got one of those ‘this is not a bag’ bags. stick it on ebay. ooh, your hair’s not as big as I thought. it must have been windy.


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