spinning is NOT a type of aerobics

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHH
32 Red track
WHIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
1 stout
WHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
76 Homer
TICK TICK TICK TICK
1/2 grey and acqua marine
WHHHHHHHHHHIRRRRRRRRRRRR
2 many Bank of shaftage
RUSTLE RUSTLE RUSTLE
4 the white stripes
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
14th Timmy
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
2 naked siamese
AAAHHHHHHHHHHHH the serenity
1000 transparency
CRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKK
1 small yellow, doleful
THWACKK THWACKK THWACKK THWACKK
zero pink
DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM
this is worse than tv, almost
CRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKK
a dozen usual suspects
SWWWWWWIIVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVLLLL
60 odd Elvis
OCH OCH OCH OCH
100 % tiresome.
FFFFFFFFFFUUUCKKNNNNNNNNNNNNN WHOOOOAAAAAAAAAAHHHH
4 on welsh beachfront
ECHO ECHO ECHO, ECCO
1 La prigione dove' abita... quella con le porte aperte
FUUUUKKKKKKKKKKINNNNNNNNNNNNNN AAAAAARGGHHHHHHH
3 bar proppers

Bull fighting and tight trousers

A truly great man once sang...
"Well, fighting the bull is one thing, but fighting bullshit is another
And around here you know the bullshit just never seems to die... "

Ahh the glamour, the honour, the poise of the toreador, the majesty of the beast, the contest of man against mighty beast.
The tradition.
The crock
Unseemly bloodthirsty spectacle.
Cruel and unusual punishment.
Glorified butchery.
The bull is crocked before anything really begins.
The bull does not die an honourable death.
It falls to the earth
with lairy skewers flapping out of the blood
desperately struggling to hold on to life.
whilst the toreador in his tight little trousers minces around him
waving his 'red' cape (bovine are colourblind)
with his socks pulled way up, like a scotsman on a summers day
pretty little slippers
startling sparkling jackets with shoulder pads to make Bananarama drool
Can't forget that ickle hat...
Sucking in acclaim from the bloodthirsty masses.
Can't wait to get my 'El Bastardo sin cojones' undergarments.
That's a role model!
As if it were an equal fight.
How about the chaps on padded horses that bring on the blood with giant spears.
It's good for the show.
The reddest blood gushing down the heaving muscles of the mighty beast in the struggle of it's life.
Pants.

When i was in the lovely city of Valencia I did consider going to the show
When in Valencia, eat Paella...
I even wandered by the stately circus
I heard the roars from the crowd
The ole's like it were a bad Italo/Espanol film
The crowd were in raptures.
I strolled up for a taste of the atmosphere
Then hurried off, sickened.
Maybe i'm just not old fashioned enough.
Perhaps 2000 years ago I would have been drinking the games down to forget the state of decay of the empire
242 consecutive days.
Lion fights tiger
Tiger fights panther
Gladiator fights Gladiator
Gladiatori fight lions, tigers, panthers ecc
Everybody has a crack at the christians
Thumbs down, Thumbs up....
If you are very lucky you will live to be killed next week
and if you live to be killed the week after
then you can die with honour the week following
Elysian Fields ?
No thanks, at last sight they were covered in psychotic gauls gunning for bipeds
An over-arching exaggeration
A tribute to self-importance.
I prefer the place of victory or the monumental arch (sure it's not a bridge?)
Here is where it magnifies my greatness
Top bloke I must have been to have Koi
Sure hundreds of thousands perished
But did you check out my hat?

they eat babies you know
if they get close enough.
you know what you must do
hurl yourself from cliff tops.

Just a tiff between cousins
they say in-breeding results in birth (and the rest) defects
Well how much of Europe is/was controlled by inbreds?
Ever seen a statue of Akhenaten?
you don't get those child bearing hips procreating with slave girls
that lovely cosy story of Adam and Eve,
So, rib lover hey?
Tried rancho relaxo sauce?
What flavour exactly is 'ranch' flavour?
Ahhh the tang of ignorance...
note the bite that denotes the peripherial vision closing in.
Logic dictates we are all the fittest products of incest around town
Nope, nowt on telly tonight,
I've finished by Stella Artois,
The cat is senseless out the back
the kids are cowering under furniture
and the wife won't be coming round for a while...
A man needs a hobby...
Clubbing baby fur seals, baiting bears, hunting foxes, harpooning whales for science, eating fresh monkey brains from the skull, torturing dogs because the fear makes the flesh more tender. Tiger hunting, white rhino hunting, Shooting protected species, sorry ducks.
So little time, so much good to be done
Did I miss any heroic adventures of mankind?
I think in this case MAN is to be emphasized
whilst KIND can be neatly side-footed under the shelves

Let's form a company

The stupidest job in the world...
my duties entailed,
standing just inside the front doors of a large electronics store and welcoming everybody who came into the store.
It lasted 3 Saturdays.
People would say hello and then they would ask me a question
unfortunately as i knew nothing about the place
and wasn't permitted to know anything. 'Not necessary!'
I wasn't qualified to answer them
Some people would just wonder what that guy was standing there for.
Even when all the SALES staff were busy
I was not allowed to attempt to help customers
My only duty was to meet them and greet them upon entry
Oh, I nearly undersold the position
I could also farewell them as they left the store.
I'm lucky I didn't need a phrasebook
Good Morning. Hello. Welcome to Soulless Bastard's. Nice Portfolio
Goodbye. Farewell. Thankyou. See you again. Yeah, and your Mummy!
Strangely, I was ostracised by other staff members.
who would whisper behind their hands,
Just what does he think he's doing in my blender section!
What's with the funny accent? He sounds like a freak!
He doesn't really mean it when he says 'Good morning'
If I catch that bloke in amongst my big screen tellies again, there will be trouble.
Bloody fancy pants, think's he is sooo clever coz he greets people
I greet people all week, you don't see me without my waistcoat on!
If i ever took a fag break, the others would huddle 5 metres away
if i approached them, they would look surly and talk about some strange sport with lingo that I could never understand.
Until I gave up, then it was back to 'your maaaaams' for all
I found myself staring out the big sliding glass doors.
Ruminating over the pointlessness of Everything.
After the first day I was in a state of shock.
So, I just stand here, all day, say hello to people and wear this dumb badge.
Is this it? Can I not try to help people?
No. that is not part of your remit.
You are part of a bold new venture for the company.
We have never before had a designated meeter and greeter
We hope to bring more of a personal touch to the company
(they were hoping for a pretty bird)
You may meet and greet people e basta!
After the third Saturday they let me down gently.
We are sorry it hasn't worked out.
We appreciate your best efforts.
But we deem the post ineffective.
Best of wishes
Don't forget to come back in March when the big sale is on!
Oh the heartbreak...

the great false big hair debacle

Three strapping young men walked down a street
Suburban somewhere.
But not too suburban
Strapping no.1 says "my, we cut a fine figure don't we?!"
Strapping no.2 says "yes"
Strapping no.1 says "it was a rhetorical question, can't you read inclination dumbarse?!"
Strapping no.3 says "it's a good thing we are renaissance men..."
Strapping no.2 said nothing more, he was a silent type.
Strapping no.1 was pretty happy about that, he thought Strapping no.2 was a bit thick.
Strapping no.3 was busy looking at his reflection in the tinted car windows

They approached the milling crowd
the road became damp underfoot.
the crowd got tangled up the in the cloth.
No wonder it wasn't a profit generating enterprise.
Some local bands, from that area were playing a free show for the punters.
the millers were chuffed, but knew they would miss at least the first 2 bands on the line-up
the gods of dexterity and nimbleness not being on their side.

The three strapping young men worked their way through the milling crowd
Heads held high, striding carefully but manfully
Ahead they spied a circle of Yew trees with a clearing inside.
They forged a path towards it
It hadn't been since Roman times that metal was used in transport construction.
Inside the clearing, there sat a mound.
From the mound they surveyed the milling crowd.
Still entangled in their great works.
How to make the natural ampitheatre where the bands jigged?
Their curly big hairs bobbled in the wind...

One pain in my brain that remains unchanged

how was your day?
mine went like this...
croak
wheeze
ouch
suck
smile
ouch
wheeze
wheeze
croak
cough
arrrggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
cough
cough
ARRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!
return to beginning and start over

Two faced Louise

Dear ignorant backward bastards,
It has been brought to my attention that your primitive sexist ways have caused innocent young women immeasurable sadness. Your backwards thinking and selfish world views are inevitably doomed to perish. It cannot last forever in these times, cling though you might, you will lose in the end. Not only do you hurt others, in the name of protecting them (perhaps fifty percent of the population), but you estrange them from yourselves. By treating people as second class citizens because of their gender, skin colour or jockey proportions, you only show yourselves as small minded and pathetic. But, you may cry, 'it's tradition', that is as hollow as any excuse can be; tradition starts somewhere, usually by self-serving arseholes like yourselves. But, you may cry, 'it's god's will', interpreted by who? By people of your gender, race and proportions, to suit people of your gender, race and proportions. Try if you can, to immagine how foolish you look. Your only certainties are deluded. Your whole lives are based upon a primitive urge to fill in the gaps. So much energy wasted. It is too scary to immagine a life without easy answers, is it not? Of course, you don't look outside your narrow horizons. There be the barbarians, the heathens and the non-believers. Those who do not understand. They will suffer damnation (in all likelihood eternal). They have not the correct blood or the chosen religion. Women are temptresses. No! women life givers! No. they sell expensive motors!
Of course no missive will change your ways. Rammed down your throat from the day you were born. But somewhere, a light might flicker and a conscience could lurk, a questioning mind HAS TO be hiding. Fear not, in your tiny land nobody will question you. Nobody will make you justify your cruelty and stupidity. You can continue to oppress as you were born with the requisite pieces in place. I pity you and I admire those that suffer because of you.
Love,
Jazz cigarettes

on bicyles and the parking thereof

Somewhere out there
Over the rainbow drug haze
There is a man with a fetish
Not your place to ask
Not my place to question
Not his place to experiment
tubal ligation
He possessed more than his fair share of bicycles
Although he wouldn't dare have the parts
One hanging from those oh-so-groovy hooks
One locked to the road sign out the front
Another two, in small pieces made up his pleasure device
Not to mention the special one that he kept safely under lock and key
the special one never got used
not even on sundays when the ladies and gents of the burgesses would go for a motor in the jag
the special one couldn't be used,
it just wasnt worth the risk
what if the super slim tyres got caught in a tram line?
too many things could go wrong.
Logic dicatates
and so it proved that the carefully demarcated bike spaces in the courtyard were not efficiently utilised.
Can't change the world leaving all that concrete going to waste.
You could fit a malvern star in there,
or maybe even one of those thoroughbred ones that you top up with gas
He couldn't bring himself to get more bikes
Then it would be a 'fixation'
no longer a healthy, manly hobby
So he sent word out of the free bike park space
Town criers cried about it
The internerders slavered over it
Word of mouth was quite obvious, whomever heard of word of foot?
And the available ladies pondered deep and long
what to make of this dashing cad and his bike park space
Many an eligible mistress would kill for somewhere spacious and secure for her bike
Soon word spread quickly
Damsels would 'accidentally' drop their handkerchiefs by his table
Maidens would 'just happen' to be passing by
mourning aloud over their bike parking difficulties
Creased and stinky dirty old men would lewdly leave their bikes against the lamp post
just to see if they could get a reaction.
alarmed at all the attention his good natured offer aroused
He sank deeper into the corner
phone turned off
lights spent
computer unplugged and gaffer taped
only moving to occasionally relieve himself
or to tweak the shutters in the hope that the seige might end
###############
fancy all that hullaballoo, just over bike space.
i ask you, really...?

That fab new band; Shouting at Ravens

Ever tried shouting at birds to make them shut up?
I did today and it worked a treat.
No, really it didn't work at all.
In fact it only seemed to egg the raven on.
So Arturo the Raven carried on joyfully croaking or whatever the fuck it is that ravens do
I shouted again, called it all kinds of imaginative names...
The raven even glanced my way once
not with the slightest concern
more with annoyance
what does go on behind those tiny, dark and sinister eyes
The inscrutable asian raven.
Then cranked up the volume
Twas probably thinking...
What the hell is that bunghole shouting about?
How am I supposed to get my croaking done with all that racket going on?
Strike lights with rocks and they explode
Here I am being a raven, doing what ravens are born to do
croak/squawk/yuck
Trying to get my work done
And along come these freaks, park their dirty car near MY tree and start creating all this noise pollution.
bollocks to that.
I shall just croak louder,
then I will go get my mates and we can have a croakfest
That'll sort out the birdies from the lightweight Saturday screamers.
Things started to look a bit sketchy
Ugly beings leered
Small minds began ticking
American accents in Melbourne
somebody took the tenderizer out
ran their fingernails all the way down the blackboard
picked a big nose
Arms started to chill
That strange sensation when you feel as if you were moving but you are quite still
Finally the raven felt he/she had filled his/her claws
And bogs off to adjacent tree with his mate Alfonse the raven....
The two of 'em kick off,
croak this,
Squawk that...
Your mother was a budgie..
I've seen better black on an albino
Speckler!
Got a sore throat now...
I bet that showed them.

Darling it's downs...

Ehila... che cazzo succede?
The mysteries of the blogworlde surround and confound.
Your account becomes my account becomes Count Blackula.
My password is your pass out and his parsimony and i've never managed to dig Gram Parsons
Her log-in becomes our love-in
Dashy the dashboard dashes dashingly in beige.
The ghost has left the machine, but not in my machine.
Why did he go? Such treats are a blessing to us all.. beati noi!
phantasms and spirits level accusations...
On the 8th of August 2001 where were you?
Boh. Cannae be sure, but I can bet I wasn't in the right place, Matt
Bilbo Baggins and Adam Shockley.
How the valleys of these minds bloom with fertility
As if ONE million sheep were reading L'Espresso, smoking and depositing
A restless sole is a migratory fish!
Just ONE more jaunt, ONE more look over the fence
ONE last view of the fairground, ONE more silver door sliding shut
Dearest, It must be justifiable... I feel it in my bones.
Have you trod lioneleum to pastures verboten?
Just immagine if WE could buy that shinier car/110 Disc Box Set Collected works of that short bloke from Marmalady/ Ride the bus to a happier place, admiring the multicoloured Jesus Stickers, Wondering if that goat paid concession prices. And who invited the Thompson Twins?
The world's most outrageous claim.
He waltzed it (with 14 different partners), before you-know-who luged it.
Mighty view from down there I Imogen.
Here's the henge of giving,
where the girl from the oppressed oppressors fell.
Don't forget to get your highlighters out.
LIME green/ bad Mexican restaurant orange/ Nasty nasty pink/ Was-the-sky-ever-so-blue Blue.
As once you fall, you become immeasurably more valuable,
than just another 60 kgs of hopes, desires and melancholy.
Let's remind the world. Someone special to someone over where the sun cannot set.
Without express permission from the authorities.
I once did wonder, 20,000 leagues under the sea...
If they were Italian, have far down would the corruption sink?
The hand at the tiller that shrunk from human touch.
Decisions being taken and made over.
Crops auto-rotating and game boys playing themselves.
Let's forgoe the the rock star puritanism
Chuck in the smiling trousers of trouble.
Cast aside the cheap seats.
Don't need them anymore!
Race you down to the Hungry Bison
the cricket is over and the robust grasshopper is tuning up...
Phew, that's a load of(f).

Lucy Loo's head

I think her name's Lucy but they all call her Juice.
She descended to this earth from a beautiful place.
At age twelve she thrilled her small world.
At age seventeen she was crowned the heir in waiting.
No dolphin this baby cakes.
Wild adventures amongst the hillocks and pillocks.
Short corsets and questionable quaffing.
I never knew that off yonder such a creature thrived.
Thrillages and spillages.
Time travel starts here***
Lucy sets off to a celtic wonderland.
Encounters sentient being known as Dilemma, spreader of light, love and blag
Dilemma the almighty spoke at once.
Though shalt be known as Lucy.
In halls and on hills the world rang out.
Lady Luce-a-lot shall protect the humble.
tight pantaloons, orange oranges and the bubble of babble.
I encounter this beknighted fiend in a stable of yellow
What did she say? Why did she say it? And what is that noise?
What is she building in there..
Through beasts she endured, stoats and ferrets alike
A blur of skins, pins and grins.
She fought her good fight.
Crusaded against the evil puritans.
Spread her love with lashings of botty.
Wielded her special toe, clenched her fisties.
Many moons after, when the sun had set on Salisbury plain.
I did once more meet the Lucifer.
Prostate on the floor, escaping gods know what special treats.
Who is this man, on this kar-pet?
It is I mistress of enlightenment.
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh
seasons came, reasons went...
Then vibrations on the gratevine drummed out some special noose...

Sold your soles?

Old besuited Maik and his dozen bad eggs
He marched them up the hill
and then called for decorum.
On arrival at the other side
They found a shiny palace.
Camel-lot?
Yeah, he had plenty.
One by one they trooped in
flags flying, liveries flailing and trombones bleeping
'Morning', cried Katherine with a C
'Sorry', exclaimed Sam with a D
'Thanks', smiled Yahn with a B
Miles of files in the dungeon,
around the throne room
through the larder
ascended the tower
descended into the pit
circumnavigated the royal tennis courts,
and soaked in the counting parlour.
That'd be a nice place to hang the lance
You could keep a flock of wilderbeast thru there!
The baronets down Flitters Way will kill for those stocks
You can bet he's a goer on the throne
You just can't find a good wenching stone these days
Not like when Edward ran the place
Matching smiles and co-ordinated mail.
Nodding helms and dashing cutlass
Once conquered, the scorched earth and stinky eyebrows
Samples deposited, no other cats would trample these fertile fields.
In search of the mill, they discovered a chapel
The chapel of lost urbanites.
Ancient draughts and crooked nooks
These heraldic arms are forged!
A smiling shepherd, crossed elms
above golden torrets and puffed nimbi
About face!
Pillaged lutes and dotted eyes
Stomping, tromping and gallomping
Saluting, nodding, sheathing markers
Out by the gate, the pheasants strutted
displaying their fineries
Their beauties wasted on callow gentry
Man at arms, plant the standards
Other attention to spill
Other flatteries to deceive
The glow has faded
Leaving seals, scrolls and scripts
settling in the stalls
The fellows have sketched their impressions
Until next we meet,
When i will cross the street

right in the ear...

that fucking tears it.
We fear that your reason, although undoubtedly correct has no place in THE SYSTEM.
It is with deepest regret that we inform you that that despite your facts being in order. The facts are not taken into account during the decision making proces. Your endearing logic is of no consequence. We have far greater matters to weigh when determining your future.

You may feel the slightest of stings whilst the pricks see to you.
What was Nick Cave kicking against exactly? Misery, scorn, contempt, drug abuse... No change given sorry, get some smack. The preponderance of pricks is overwhelming, mosquito protuberants, thorny questions, rosebuds, iron maidens, beds o' nails and worst of all Little Worm Men.
Lucky we aren't like those primitives with their voodoo gurus, witch doctors and ignorant attachment to Gaia the Resource-Ball.

At the entrance to the labyrinth you are smilingly asked to obey a few rules 'for your own good'...
Any lighting would disturb the ambient, you won't be needing your clothes, hair, fillings or glasses... established procedure you understand'.
This blindfold will prevent you having to lay eyes on any unpleasantries on the way to a just outcome. We have your best interests at heart.
Naively you acquiess to all demands. How could such a nice organism, with so many nice voices be anything but well meaning?
Naked, blindfolded, you stumble out of the sunlight and into the gloom. I wonder why they needed my shoes? why are my eyes stinging so, citric acid?, not like i need to be told not to peek?! Left hand at ninety degrees. Just follow the left wall, it always works. whispers, what whispers? Proceed blinded into the blindness. Let's not let our immagination get away with us now.... Nothing to fear. Stiff upper lip. Left hand brushes against sold brick. solid. stumbling along, the texture changes, seems to be organic, wood?
ouch! a splinter, what are they playing at? Keep left... was that a whiff of smoke? i wish there weren't all of these raised bricks. Touch the earth. a stop. a start. bricks don't rustle. beh, uneven surface, pannelled walls, don't bother me much.
smak, the shins, arrrrrrr fuck! rolling undulations, sure, but jagged rocky outcrops!
sure and steady. Just a part of the process.
whoah. left hand slides onto.. well nothing. there is nothing to the left. a big gaping nothing. a breeze caresses you. the smoke is no longer a hint. KEEP LEFT. that way sooner or later you will find the exit. it's ineluctable logic. Logic got humankind this far...
shit, who put that there. This isn't the starbucklethics dome, a hurdle... funny place for that.
shuffle now. fear rising and overwhelming inner voice of reason. NO! it's reason that got me this far. Reason shall see me thru.
ahh at last. A blur of light thru the lemoncheesecloth. tentative steps, wind picks up.
shins are screaming, fingers are throbbing, elbow and knees are grazing. Leeches, where did they come from?
A faint crackle, becomes and deafening crack. Like some fools voicemail, ripping... it knocks you down.
A big voice says.. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE FULFILLED ALL REQUIREMENTS. PLEASE STAND....
ahh, that's a relief. Dragging sorry body to attention.
another crackle, must be pacha mama. the smoke that thunders with her rainbows. I truly have passed through the worst. Silly of me to ever have doubted. Keep the faith.
another crack.
PLEASE REMAIN IN YOUR ALLOTTED PLACE.
a flooding light, a flood of relief. It was worth it. Natural justice.
VOID.
VOID
VOID
nothing underfoot, plummet, scream, tumble, curse.... you fucking bastards!
Fall, black wind whipping your ears. A fall of all time. a fall for all time.
SUPPORT HAS BEEN REMOVED BY THE SYSTEM

belinchiata

observation: no links can be made
consequence: bollocks must be sprayed
merda.
football.guardian.co.uk/Columnist/Column/0,,1821771,00.html
observer.guardian.co.uk/focus/story/0,,1821573,00.html
Are what occupy my space.
I wonder what token thinks...

Serene or Siren?

A sea of faces swirls before the eyes...
A smile here, a grimace there, a look of pained knowledge from the shadows.
A story behind each one, behinds on each story.
Why do you stare meaningfully at us? Vamos alla playa! Why do you crawl on all fours?
An image captured for short term posteriority.
Is the hair okay? Can you make out my small dimple? Does my ego look big in this?
Does the dark reveal something that's best kept in the light?
There he was, in Mexico, or was it just a mexican-themed park?
the sun beat down relentlessly on his big, bad, red beret.
There they were, in a club in Yorkshire ... Does homo-eroticism send the right signals?
There she is, her better half left on the digital floor.
There I am. Oh no, my bad. it's just some chappy from the 4th estate
He claims to not even have heard the rules, floating above the morass.
But I have glimpsed him, aloof but alone,
straining into the gloom to make out that which can never be hers.
Quick! Look out the window... across the street
Framed in beautiful fleeting Scandinavian sunlight
What is going on in THAT mind? So much promise. Alas, nobody told the delivery man.
Gosh! Somebody wrote a song about a knight once
clink chink clunk
What was the human conditioner?
Baffling but apparently it's worth it.

A place called Bad

Just before you leap to any conclusions. A place called Bad is not in Germany. Sure there are plenty of places called Bad in Germany. But not this one. In fact I am informed by a dodgy service that bad is bath in Deutsch. So damn smelly hippy, take a Bad.
Communque, this place called Bad has nothing to do with bathing, washing or douching. THIS place called Bad is on the Eastern coast of a country that we shall call Newshoes. Day or night, in this placed called Bad there are great industries belching, spewing, lunching gases into the sky. During daylight it is a spectacular sight, these behemoths of Bad. At night, it sends a chill down the kidney stones. The behemoths of Bad glow with a sea of lights, their noxious vapours lit up by searching lights and flames leap into the sky. This is when the place called Bad is at her most impressive. I have never been to a place called Bad, in the pied-a-terre sense. Although I have passed by a place called Bad countless times and even brushed with Bad, but always from behind the safe perspex shield that one needs if they are to move on relatively unscathed.
Someone, somewhere made a film about a place called Bad once, heavy with irony about the challenges the unfortunate residents of a place called Bad. Try as they might, fairy lights, charming spires, a hologram projection of Good to block the behemoths, they lived their lives in a place called Bad, breathing in toxins, bathing (yes, i know) in toxins, eating toxins with their pot noodles. There were of course, the birth defects, the chronic dysentery and the gang warfare that hounded the residents of a place called Bad. The Bad Boys brawled with The Bad Bunch with knives, cricket bats and small ampules of gas. The elderly cowered in their houses, the tall crouched in their kitchens and the angular studied geometry. There will be no let-up for the Bad people, their destiny was forged by the behemoths and as the behemoths and their masters control the peninsula and the hinterland with an iron grip it seems that a place called Bad has no sunlight at the end of the Motorway. Just Bad behemoths fouling the world around them, blocking out what light, life and love which might have bloomed in a place called Bad.

The goat boat stops at all stations

Oh baby where has all the love gone?
Can you hear the rattle in your head when you shake it to and fro? Maybe its just me...
Today i have been enlightened by a brindle.
Does that tickle your fancy?
frank black wants to live on an abstract plane.... I wanna live in Carlton.. who is the most confused?
Let me tell you a little about myself.
I live in a small box on top of a hill... my middle name is Julio (pronounced Hoolio!) and i've never met a man called Rhonda. for that matter i've never been to Rhhonda, or me.
Sound like your cup of waste paper?
You know where to find me, until my notoriously short attention span leads me out the window and far away.
Right then, any question, demands, insults or suggested topics?
I'm very open to suggestion
please insert girder

somebody else once said...

I've never had an original thought... ever