something i wrote a while ago

[jamesthemonkeh]

Hi, its a bit strange, but I wrote it while I was mashed a year or two ago, I think its quite entertaining if you manage to read it all!!!

 

Four years from now, I will be a homeless, jobless, wino. And I will need help because I will be possessed by the devil. I will be an ashtray, a big round thing, collecting bits of [censored]. Looking like Harold Bishop, eating toothbrushes. Blue suede shoes can crush beetles or ladies of the night.

Get the ex-wife to fix the video at Easter. Only with glistenings of hope. Get lost you great big div, you are fascinating, providing the perils of life, laughing at me, you and the carrots. Bye. Laughing policeman, is that not sexist, you are the peach. Hello? Laughing policewoman? Where is the tosh, the mosh, gosh and slosh. Maybe words ending with osh, aren’t real words.

I have just painted my wife and three kids, have you any idea how to dispose of them? Put them in a bus shelter in Ripon, maximum joy, liven the place up a bit, then they can come on and get off well. Maybe the content is just a 40’s pop record with or without the popping guitars.

Yesterday I was a goldfish, today I am a goldfish, tomorrow I will probably be a goldfish. Not much hope for improvement is there? Try to outstare a goldfish. 100% victor is what you are, yesterday, today and probably tomorrow. Not that you could kill the fish. Is Persia an actual country? We will scour the planets to find someone dumber than the president to work it out. We’re gonna work it out. And investigate if any straight people wear gloves. Latent homosexuals, they probably is. No. No. No. No. No. Not having it. Your mum. Gun, bum, no.

The Horton bell-ringers, it is a mystery…I could swear that it is a part of Emmerdale, off the top of my head. Or was that the home of rugby…Bridgend?

Maybe Buddy Holly knows something about it, when I was about 10. I could suppose that planes are safer if they are not involved in a war, whether they are safer than jail-trains is another consequence. But where is Buddy Holly? He probably hired a plane. A haemhaeroid could even hit us, while we are punching on. Get out of my office, you are the kitchen sink, goodbye.

To keep your powder dry, drink one can of beer, preferably still lager, 127 hours after you start work on Monday morning, or whenever your Monday morning may be, or I will bully you to the Italian job, only a bit of sense. And when you complain, I will tie your ears to your right hand. Like a bullet on a string.

I pack fudge.

Mr McClua, eats the dinky-do, for all he knows and your Auntie Fanny, has only one dinky-do. Which could be a word. It was a Brazilian cosmopolitanarianismistically thing. Like a cave really. Please put a hat on, like the sun, put a flipping hat on, do not go any further, do not pass go, I am not a doctor. Only read more if you have a hat on. It could skip the tails of scales from balance. It is the voyage, a trip, into the minds, your mind, or maybe minds, because I am free minds. Three people, free minds. For this will be an organic experiment.

Now I am the reference. Don’t where watches, sting my bottom, for You don’t need time. Jim’ll fix it for you…you and you and you. Could you please make America, the next Scotland? Scottish Slipnott piss on your bagpipes through your masks, Watford 2 – Grimsby 1. 10 minutes to go, before the ‘oid’ hits the cosmoti. What is mart? As in Exchange and Mart? I can only review your creativity. I would rather mart cheese than exchange your bath water with seven lawnmowers.

Come to think of it, time is pointless…just be. We are out of time, out of touch with Gregory.

If you don’t stop at traffic lights, you could save 30 seconds a day, 3.5 minutes a week, 168 minutes a year, enough time to do stuff. You could get Jimmy Hendrix to eat 7 traffic wardens every life. Or is that libellous?

Liberally elephantally libellous, religious with intent, rebellious without belief, cuss with love, when will my voice break? Because I am frightened that you may be frightened, for that is not a dream of wax, do not be frightened, beautiful tonight, dung dung is their shite, cows dung could be dung dung, sniff it! If you was a house, what type of horse would you be, and why? And would it have salmonella? Fox trottingly speckled. Where the hell are tomorrows invisible snowstorms. Bob-sleigh down water slides, it is the nicer stink, goodbye.