The random, but sometimes surprisingly connected (but not necessarily lucid), stream-of-consciousness thoughts of an optimistic, heavy drinking, cantankerous, iconoclastic, foul-mouthed, devil worshipping misogynist who gets into fist-fights and lived in a damp barge in the arse end of the Thames and now lives in a caravan and loves to slaughter cats by the flinty light of a full moon while reading poetry.
They don't hang around once they start do they?
ReplyDeleteAlan: Neither do they baulk at the task.
ReplyDelete(Here we go again)
Truss you jokers to say that...
ReplyDelete