Lard Motel

[hirez]

(Brain-chemistry still a bit knackered, so...)
(And I've been overcome by an attack of the prolix)
(And it would appear I've a set of new subscribers)
(And anonymous lurking wasp-factroids armed with vast mechanical badgers)
(It's like having clay-people lurking behind the sofa and gleefully absorbing the Gormo-Rays that come from the telly.)

Thus: Any daft questions before it all gets strange and antagonistic again? Or shall I just continue with the off-colour jokes and barbed comments until everybody gets a monk on and stumps off?

(And indeed, when in hell did I start to care about anyone else's opinion about what I choose to leave here? That's just broken...)

Comments

[hirez.livejournal.com]

Zen. Mobile Lard Motel bloke used to have a proper job in a factory making things. Now he has to cook a legion of full Englishes, bacon rolls and mugs of tea, which is Woman's Work. Thus, he doesn't try hard to make it right, and it Just Works.

Actually, that seems to be true of most things.