The First, Again, Because it Sounds Good

A verb. A verb? Don’t scream a verb at me, I wouldn’t know what one was if it grew teeth and decided to bite me on the bottom. Not that a verb should want to do such a thing, from what I hear they are the more quiet, retired and reserved members of the literary world. But saying that one did, in all essence of the suggestion, wanted to sink gnashers into my arse, I would have a jolly firm word to say about it. I Just wouldn’t be entirely sure what that word was. Sure, it all seems like fun, the dreamy sun basking in the bluebell sky, casting lashings of warmth down on your pasty thigh regions. But when push comes to shove, shove comes to picking the bugger up and hurling him off a bloody tall cliff, preferably a white chalk one, just in keeping with the tradition of the damn thing. SH

The First

As it was said, or was not said to me, the world is one man’s blunderbuss as it is another man’s buttered toast. You can try and mix it all together, wield it forth as a sharpened weapon, or if you like it can be enjoyed at your leisure. It needn’t surprise me or you that anything that’s said nowadays can be labeled as genius or complete bollocks. It centrally has nothing whatsoever, a cormorant’s fart on Tuesday, to do with what was said or written, but is graded by what others say back about it. You’re typical tripe is still typically tripe, but the guided in gold legend that is created for it by a plethora of thirteen to fifteen year olds it taken as market standard. I wish I’d had the time to banty on more about this, but I probably will, so lest yourself move away from your cotton trousers for the day, I’ll pick this up another time. Indeed. SH