When a certain faith....whom i will not even whisper just in case i am dragged away in my panties by the Political Corrective Police and stoned to death by pregnant Green Jelly Babies rules this green and pleasant land will the clocks stop....The first Sunday in November is traditionally Rememberance Sunday for the fallen in the great war and beyond i sometimers ask myself why they bothered. A church notice i passed the other day did not call it that perhaps they too did not want to drown in a sea of who flung Green Jelly Babies..either....perhaps we should not even call it England any more just reserve the name for the top of chocolate boxes with the quaint picture of rose cottage embossed...for those quaint visitors whom might tramp through what is left of England with cameras and a famous blue rain coat made in Hong Kong across their shoulders....
At this hour of the morning i am perhaps dancing with the prince of darkness...perhaps when the sun rises some bits and bobs of my old England will shine on..perhaps i am in this solitude..because a modern tecno machine from Australia informed my mind ealier in the week that i might become a grandad...indeed i smiled fancy a transvestite becoming one of those.....So Goeth...
