Wednesday, January 30, 2008


Boris: my heroin

While putting together the rest of the story I started in my last post, I have decided to emulate some of London's mayoral candidates and recommence using heroin.

Yes, I know. I'm sorry. 'Recommence' is such an ugly, Latinate word. I should have said 'start... again'. My bad, as they say.

I can't help it, really. The smack use, I mean. Three months of listening to the Velvet Underground and Iggy Pop. Failing to dodge billboards with Kate and Pete Moss's drawn, fucked faces. Economic collapse. Utterly stupid, self-deluding, self-righteous non-entities, drunk with power, robbing us blind and clinging to their jobs because nobody gives a rat's arse, really. Our glass-eyed leader, his fingers steepled before him as his rotten, feculent dream decays before his eyes.

Vote Boris, if you can, and if you want more hard drugs on the streets. At least that way you don't have to be conscious when it all hits the fan.

I'm sorry, I think I'm going to be


Sounds like fun. I'll take two.
I think you should have used orange on a few of the letters of aaaeeeeuuuurrrgrgghhh to give it a slightly more authentic feel
What's wrong with recommence? Although you could have used restart. Or start afresh / anew. Or dozens of other options. Ah yes, Velvet Undergound. I had one of those once. Took me ages to flock the walls of that cellar. As for Iggy Pop, I drank some flat dandelion and burdock the other day. That was pretty igy, I can tell you. I'm glad I'm not addicted to smack any more. I was beginning to find it hard to stit down.
Sigh, smacks heads and their weird baby covered ceilings.
If you get the chance, try and see Boris in the film Taking Liberties. Lounging with his shirt open to the navel, lacking any of the dignity that goes with a suit and tie or a cogently burbled diatribe on bendy buses, he constitutes a warning to us all about the kind of ruthless sexual exploitation which awaits all defenceless haystacks who stray upon our lawless city streets.
Feculent dreams are really shitty. I'm sorry for your troubles, Foots.
That was yet another Christ, I must have been pissed post. Nevertheless:

Bint: how's it hanging? I've visited your blog recently and silently, and although your politics suck, as always, your raw honesty has been a punch to the gut that I'm still digesting.

Kim: yours sounds like the voice of experience. What would you say to sienna? 'Orange' is so 2006.

Oblivion Seeker: if you're a newbie then I'm a Greek uncle. Come on, who are you? If you're that bearded wanker from the Low Countries then I'm banning you forthwith.

FMC: you what? You've pretty much cornered the blogospheric market in erudite, scorching and commonsensical observations on everyday life. I do the surreal bullshit stuff, with occasional help from my lickspittles Dr Maroon and HA HA HA (when he can be arsed). Stick to your turf, dudette.

Philip: you're giving me the horn. Your challenge is next up, by the way.

Sam: you swore! Take four Palmolive lozenges and go to your room.
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