Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Guten Abend

Deine Fuhrer hier.
Was ist los?
Nur ein Bissen.
Got sei dank fur dat.

Yes you see I have a see saw.
A break wind cursor streak.
Jugular Tyburn clank.
An enormity of Ursulas.
Minor freak wit.
Labial tides of green ooze from the plug sockets.
(and that bit is real)

Glass in hand , turning your cheeks.
Mable is that you Mable?
Tawny brain time.
I drank some mint tea with honey again.
Hopefully we won't all get murdered by random
rogue electrons. But the vibrations are heightening.
No Haight Ashbury San Francisco Ribbon Girls here,
no matter how many late 60s obscurities I download
onto my ArgosPod.

I have fungi and butterflies by my side
thanks to The Guardian. Covers a dreary wardrobe.
Fancy a bit of Russula violeipes anyone?

There is a vicar on a rooftop in camden,
he's up there for ten days and shitting in a bucket,
I kid you not. I read his diary in the Camden New Journal.
As well as raising money for roof repairs he is getting a good
perspective on the scummy nightlife of those sticky vomit piss and blood drenched paves. Read his diary here
a night on the tiles

A BBC lipreading expert read the lips of the Italian player
who Zidane Billy-Butted. They reckon he said he hoped Zidane's family died a horrible death. At the moment ZZ's mum is quite ill.
Bit close to home.
Take that!