Sunday 10:20 a.m.
I got paid on Friday so sallied forth last night with the Poisonous to soak up the beautiful, wonderful city in the last weekend of the Fringe, and look at lots of young women of child bearing age.Fortunately, this year the fashion veered away from the flaunting of beer bellies, and there were some fabulous lower limbs on display.
Despite visiting Syracuse during his holidays, the Poisonous could not remember Archimedes Principle.
The weight of a floating object is equal to the weight of the the fluid displaced.
It was much more elegantly stated when I was a lad.
The Poisonous is now sixty and, because he has stayed alive for this length of time, he now gets a free bus pass. If he bought this, it would cost £500 a year. The free bus pass scheme is a fine example of communism in action and has to be applauded. Everything should, of course, be free, income tax should be punitive and wealth will be redistributed as soon as we get our freedom from the stupid people down south who don't know how to vote for anything other than a bunch of fascist basturns.
In Deity Yoga, of course, we take the result as the path. I am a famous novelist. A very nice young lady of child bearing age sat down beside me in the Speigeltent in George Square. She could not remember Archimedes Principle either, but did know Boyle's Law.
For a fixed amount of an ideal gas kept at fixed temprature, pressure and volume are inversely proportional.
I think I fell in love at that point and would have asked her to marry me, but I'd run out of beer then and had to walk on.
All compounded things are subject to dissolution. Pursue your salvation with diligence. Walk on.
I tried to get Poisonous to agree to download Ancient Futures from Kindle Amazon since it has still only been downloaded twice. Despite it only costing 86 pence, he refused point blank. Almost everyone I know is a complete basturn.
We were in the Men's Union at Teviot Row. The place is redolent with memories for me. I asked the Poisonous if he remembered getting thrown down the stairs outside after he'd punch the servitor in the eye when they were carrying him out semi-conscious from the downers, but he did not remember this. He doesn't remember anything. He never has. He's completely in the here and now. As well as having a free bus pass, he has a certificate from the government saying he's a complete psycho. Whenever anyone asks him to go to a meeting at this jobbie, he just whips out the certificate and grins madly.
This would be a wonderful country if we could just get free of the stupid Englanders, the evil bourgeois, and other war mongering, flesh eating basturns!
7 comments:
The lower limbs in cursory skirts have even reached wintry NSC. Just wait till the summer! They'll have to take something off. One may have to look away to avoid the pathetic yearning.
I believe Poisonous's ejection was in Alma Mater. If he could afford your book, he could afford to pay for the bus.
Our peers have reached 60? Hitchens, or maybe it's Amis, reckons there should be a euthanasia booth on every corner. I think it'll come. They'll offer inducements, e.g. a gourmet last meal with all your favorite drugs, served by nude Thai whores, all recorded on video for you to keep.
Albert? You'll know more about Alma Mater than me!! The consiglieri said we should offer it to Cargo Publishing. He said it was a good read so he must have read it. You should buy it instead. I'll sell you it for a hundred grand up front. Peanuts when your boat comes in. Hotboy
Alma Is a great read, ahead of its time in its treatment of the bedroom scenes between the two gay guys.
Please register my advance order for the second edition, rewritten with a bigger role for Andrew the hetero hero, and a more punchy ending. I suggest the main gay guy should take up boxing and have some sense knocked into him. The feminist heroine, turned on by the bloodshed, offers to make an honest man of him.
Albert? It's amazing to me that I've never sold anything to anybody for about 17 years! Do you think I'm destined to die in the gutter? I think I might be. Just as well I've given everything up, eh? Hotboy
I Say!
On the occasion of his birthday, did Poisonous go around town singing that well-known Rod Stewart song: "Do you think I'm sixty?"
I think we should know.
MM III
Does it matter whether one dies in the gutter or a palace? Technically I suppose the lead-up could be more enjoyable in comfort, for people still capable of noticing.
If you want to sell something, tweak Alma Mater.
Albert? I was going to re-write Alma Mater in my forties when I finished with it the last time in my early thirties, but I never got round to it. I'm too busy with the bliss just now to do anything sensible. Hotboy p.s. I might not matter for me to die in the gutter due to the bliss, but I would like some money so I could travel the world first.
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