Things what I writ

I sometimes write nonsense about things to try and sound clever

commit no nuisance

endangered as they are, socialists in the community do get out sometimes. There was a scintillating debate on plasma vs. LCD, but you know, we’re stuck on or Sony Trinitrons, and we can’t justify the upgrades. I can stretch to a digibox, because then I can get BBC Four where they have Bulgarian folk music and Damien Rice in session, but goodness me, I can’t justify £1900 on a widescreen LCD. I mean, it’s probably made in an emerging market economy in terribly exploitative working conditions. The thing is, I can justify my Sony W1, because I researched it extensively and didn’t overspend unnecessarily. So that’s alright, right?

lucky me, I get to live in a market economy with freedom of speech and my liberty intact. I can sit in the pub talking bollocks about the government and not get arrested and persecuted just because I think I might vote for the Green Party. Even if I think they’d be a rubbish government. You’ve just got to nail it down sometimes. I have my choice to make but I’m driven by dichotomies. It’s no good me clinging to my Militant Tendency youth when I clearly can’t justify my overspending. So I just talk about it in the pub with Sean. Then I go home and flick on my Dell to see if the share price is above the number I first thought of and then doubled and added 1.

In the end, it’s all about that transition phase between being 23 and unemployed in Sheffield and a fat bald bloke in Surrey doing 5k on the treadmill in my lunch hour. Somewhere in the middle I got paid a large sum of money and then I forgot I really cared about anything. I went to the workhouse the other day and came away with this message. Stop it Mr. Ecclescake, you’re killing me! Now there’s a sound in my head from 1991 and everything’s alright. I went with Neil to the Kilburn National to see Robyn Hitchcock and everything went white. I didn’t really feel anymore, but Neil lived in St. John’s Wood so it was a long way home.

oh, and here’s a tractor