I WOKE UP IN A COLD SWEAT. SOMETHING INSIDE ME WAS DYING.
I wrote that in a more lucid moment as I recalled the last bath I had. Baths are no longer in fashion.
I WROTE THAT AS I GAZED AT MY NAVEL WHILST WAITING FOR MY LUNCH TO GET NUKED IN THE MICROWAVE
But orange juice. Be it thick or thin. Or a smoothie even. It's never enough for a growing boy.
THERE'S AN ACHE IN MY HEART. THAT CERTAIN SOMETHING IS STILL DYING.
Now I wrote THAT this afternoon. And then only because the tulips downstairs popped their heads out to say hello.
DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY GERMS ARE OUT THERE MOUNTING ATTACKS ON THIS THING WE CALL A BODY?
Well, that's pretty obvious. I wrote that just now as I scratched another festering boil.
WHERE'S THIS ALL LEADING TO? GIMME SOME GAGS. DON'T FECK ME OFF WITH YOUR INNERMOST REFLECTIONS ON TIME PAST AND EXPERIENCE DISSECTED
OK, well, if you come across a man with a gay dog on cocaine, think yourself lucky.
WHAT THE FECK DOES THAT MEAN? IS IT SOME SORT OF CODE?
Just so, grasshopper. Funny too. If you think about it. If you really think about it. But if you really, really, really think about it you might go blind. Remember, it's not that everything is so far away now, it's that you're too close.
OH, I GET IT. WORDPLAY AGAIN. BUT TELL ME, WHAT IS THE TRUE MEANING OF VENETO?
Don't ask me, just book today, tasting is good. Which brings me to the title of this here muse. Orange juice. A life saver but bland, bland, bland. Boysenberry juice. Now you're talking. A wine moment. And now it's gone. Did you know that claret was the Brits' way of... Oh, never mind. See that? It just slipped through my fingers. Again.
WHAT ABOUT A LIST? PEOPLE LOVE LISTS. THE TOP FIVE THINGS TO DO WITH ORANGE JUICE WHEN YOU'RE NEKKID WITH SOME HOT TOTTY?
It slid down my throat. I don't know where it's gone. But it left behind a bad taste. Like melted polystyrene with horseshit mixed in. Did you know that I know a man who can eat a whole horse? Yep. I mean, not straightaway. You have to sit him down at noon and leave him for the rest of the day. But he won't eat the nostrils. He's funny that way. But honestly, what IS a national treasure?
OFUKKIT. I'M THRU. ENUFF ALREADY!
And I wrote that, well, yesterday actually, as the next door neighbour pleaded for more. One can only give so much of a stale loaf. Which rewinds me...
You're such an oaf