I look like a pig

I do. Its true. just like an orwellian über pig with a face like a slapped Chesney. every time I breathe in its like a collision at a ratchet factory, but that’s alright, because when I breathe out its like a moon landing on a brown field site just outside attleborough. I had to draw myself with my right hand today, so even though I was able to use the left side of my brain, I’d slept the wrong way round and it was just full of chaff. I came out like a satanic peter stringfellow, so I ordered meself a pie and sat down on a peasant. it was better after that, but I’ve got a stack of standard web templates piled up on the migration roadmap and I’ve got to pull it all together.

nah. think I’ll just get the Talin out and get it all ‘Colorado’. It’s Japan on day 2, so if I’m not on the overlap, I’ll get a load of bother from the pusherman, standing by with his big fat switch. I reckon that’ll be an overnight job, upside down in Broomfield, bluffing the lot on a pair of 8s, while droozilla cackles uncontrolably into his ventilator, gibbering something about accessibility. ooh. there goes bob dylan.


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