Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Cry ‘Havoc’ And Let Slip The Weasels Of Perversion

If there is no other reason other than this for you to cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the weasels of perversion, then – indeed – let this be reason enough. For all too often these days, we let the mundanities of existence become mountains in our path, if passable at all, then only with difficulty while we sit here around our gutted campfires in the foothills of despair fruitlessly gnawing on the meatless bones of our once proud hopes and dreams.

But, my little geometry set, it need not be like that.

Come, and take my hand (or vice-versa, if you prefer).

Let us go then you and I, now the systems analysts are spread out against the sky, and let us walk together down towards the deep river of sexual deviation and experimentation. Together we could find the place where we can go to dip our toes into a bath of lukewarm custard whilst you are dressed up as a pair of geography teachers and I rotate the melon in a clockwise direction against a star-filled sky.

However, if that is not enough to erase the last wisps of your existentialist foreboding, take my knee and follow me on down to our very own Little Frigging village pub, The Pervert’s Appendage, where tonight is Naked Dominos Night! Don’t forget, of course, to bring you domino spanner and your little red book of logarithmic tables.

See you there!

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