CHRISTMAS.
There's been a gap in my indispensable blog; my excuse is below.
I couldn't be arsed to get any further with the ad-vent project due the Black Dog arriving because of witnessing the seething masses duped by corporate greed, the family-based guilt of it all, hollering tv adverts (especially the perfume and supermarket ones - I shudder every time they're on), the stupid packaging - imagine the landfill, the pressure of of excessive cretin-card use, packed supermarkets, celebs wheeled out onto tinselly tv game shows for absolutely no reason, the packs of rabid, drunk-out-their-minds, chlamydia-ridden office workers vomiting, shouting and pissing in the street, the panic buying, the religion and the pure, bewildering ugliness of it all.
I must admit, though, that I did slip over in the drizzly early hours of Soho, slightly worse for wear after my studio party, only to be helped to my feet by a prostitute who proceeded to pickpocket my cards, cash and dignity, but I still had the nous to pickpocket her back, so that was OK then; it was my Christmas present to myself. She said "Oi! Wotchcoo fink you is doin'?"
I said "getting my money and cards you just took off me, you terrible, terrible whore."
A pause, then: "well, nah you got your money back, jew fancy goin' somewhere?"
I said "getting my money and cards you just took off me, you terrible, terrible whore."
A pause, then: "well, nah you got your money back, jew fancy goin' somewhere?"
Secular paradise next year anyone?
Merry Christmas to one and all!
