So I broke up, out and away to what I thought was greener grass on the singlehood side. Well, this famed other side is fenced off for good reason: it is overflowing with manure. Fresh out-of-school manure, old and crusty but-still-musty manure, it’s not you it’s me manure, manure for every weather and preference.
I’d grabbed at the pretty packaging (kids are so often content with the box alone), only to find that there was nothing inside for me. That was my name on the tag, they’d written it, but once unwrapped oops! (a mere formality of a) sorry, the contents were actually not meant for the giving, would you mind please returning…oh sod it, ownership had never transferred anyway nor was it remotely meant to.
Words and outings are nothing more than fuel: let’s see how much mileage we can get with one compliment here, one soulful insight there. Well, petroleum consists essentially of decayed fossils. The feats grown men (so you’d think, if the first few white hairs have appeared) will undertake to appease a few cm2 of (inadequate, moreover) flesh will always be bewildering – like the degree of absolute mediocrity some people can be content with.


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