‘Sweet Sixteen’ – Billy Idol
YET IN THE DAYTIME, THE EVIL HAD GONE, AND ONLY THE WOMAN REMAINED.
BUT LAST NITE, I BELIEVE I STARED INTO THE FACE OF DEATH…
It was wonderful, risky, and the better for it. Ever stronger.
UNCANNY, THAT DEATH WISHES TO BE
the future looks promising…
A cross looking skull…
‘Catch My Fall’ – Billy Idol
LEGS WANTS TO WRITE SOMETHING. DON’T TAKE IT TOO SERIOUSLY, THOUGH, FOLKS, COS HE NOT A WOLF! HE A SQUIRREL…
SHIT! WHAT DO I WRITE?!
Jesus, I have just realized what crappy handwriting I’ve got.
Jez just said not to slag him off and Jack gave me a packet of cheese and onion crisps! Life is looking up.
Goodbye to whoever reads this.
That was Legs, my close companion in these early days of my 18th year.
Ghostly figures, mere wisps of reality, with mullets and fingers that shush…
Look – a crap squirrel (all teeth and tail)!
Kiss of Panda!
AT BLACKBERRY NARROW, CASTLE OF THE LAST
FLASH WILL BE
HERE ON THARSDEEE!
LIFE’S A GRAPEFRUIT,
THEN YOU DIE!
THE 1ST DAY OF THE REST OF MY
SQUIRREL SANDWICH! RAMMY! RAMMY!
A bit later…
‘Afterhours’ – The Sisters of Mercy
IT’S BEEN A WEEKEND, FOLKS. IT CERTAINLY HAS. THERE WAS A SATURDAY IN IT, AND A SUNDAY IN IT. SO IT MUST’VE BEEN. AYE, IT HASN’T HALF BEEN A WEEKEND. IT HASN’T HALF BEEN A WEEKEND, COS IF IT WAS HALF A WEEKEND YOU MIGHT AS WELL CALL IT SATURDAY, OR, ALTERNATIVELY, YOU COULD JUST CALL IT SUNDAY…
MIND YOU, IF YOU’RE INTO WORDS, etc, (UNLIKE LEGS), YOU COULD CALL HALF A WEEKEND A WEEK, BUT THAT’S TECHNICALLY WRONG, BECAUSE A WEEK HAS SEVEN DAYS IN IT AND NOT ONE. I SUPPOSE YOU COULD CALL IT A KEND, BUT THEN AGAIN MAYBE YOU COULD JUST
Shut uP! Shut uP!
What you tryiNg
to do to Me??!
(The ‘o’ in ‘to’ is a free-floating bottom, that pops two guffs and a profiterole of smelly joy as its word is spoken…)
Hello, that was Berwin.
Before Berwin, that was an android duplicate of myself, which I have just cunningly destroyed with my phial of Essence of Stan’s Anti-Matter Breath.
The Merciful Release anatomical head emerges from the cracked earth…
Berwin Groomstool, blackened and bruised, chomps and slavers, stinking and buzzard-like beneath his Astrakhan hat… EXUDING SHAIGHT…
Me, all fabulous hair and a face like a pepperoni pizza wearing a clown nose…
X-Wing Fighters and the Millennium Falcon swoop to attack the Death Star’s contingent of TIE fighters, with explosions ahoy!
on the very same day.
‘Floorshow’ – The Sisters of Mercy
A half-shadowed man with a mighty mullet…
My arse is throbbing for a shate. My willy feels weird. I’M SCARED!
Now then. TIME IS SHORT and MY LIFE COULD BE CLOSING SOON. IT FEELS THAT WAY. But I hope otherwise…
IT SCARES ME MORE NOW.
‘The Temple Of Love’ – The Sisters of Mercy
RITCHERD WINTERFOOD QUOTE OF THE WEEKEND:
‘I answer to no-one.’
[Images subject to control of individual Copyright Holders including works originated by Elton Townend Jones, but excluding any images or design attributed to ‘The Situation’ which are copyright of The Situation (see specific acknowledgements in the ‘Thanks to…’section below) / ‘Berwin Groomstool’ is an iteration of the Situation character‘William Whicker’ and falls under joint copyright of Elton Townend Jones and Waen Shepherd / Based on true events and designed as a study of parochial British cultural and emotional life in the late 20th century, this blog is a work of fiction – cultural icons excluded, all characters and incidents featured are entirely fictional / This blog is non-profit; all video clips are used for illustrative purposes and always come from YouTube / No copyright infringement is intended – just trying to get things into context. Never forget: no man is an island. If you think anything I’ve used is damaging you in any way, please comment and immediate action will be taken to minimise offence / This notice was amended on 1 July 2012 and is intended to cover this and all posts on www.25yearstoolate.blogspot.com that precede it]
Next time: ‘Volunteering…’