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  1. Violas screech and the tamponade lemonade pomade asps
    Bingo and backgammon and futility creeping up on you
    The (ogogogogogogogog) monsieurs wail in dischord
    English is a scratchy handkerchief, unwashed

    The above poem has received first prize in the inaugural "Our Lady of Tangible Nausea" Sunday fete, and is now sweeping the world with its feathery broom of consonants and cheap yellow plastic dustbin of empty promises. The auteur, a Mr Hnr Drrs, expounds thus:
    "When I rit this I was trying not to seem too elegant; I didn't want to alienate the aliens what keep their glittering antennae focussed on my quivering encephalus, attuned to each neuronal spasm, believe so. And you should, if you were also, so tonight I'm welcoming STORMY BANANAS


    Where is my mind
  2. Now just hold on one DAMN minute.
    There is NO evidence to suggest that I had any involvement whatsoever in the weapon smuggling that took place during last weekend's corporate hat-wearing function. I may have taken a small handgun as a mild jape, to poke fun at my superiors, but that sackful of assault rifles was not, I repeat NOT, mine. And just in case you believe it appropriate to continue spreading these malicious and libellous lies about me, besmirching my wholesome and respectable image, I will hint subtly that although the guns were not mine, I may well know some people who have cheese graters and various kitchen appliances. Say no more.
    These words aren't mine either, I was minding them for a gentleman who offered me a small sum of money to stand here with them and display them for public perusal. I have no real connection to them and can't be held responsible for anything they may or may not mean. In any case they are just a collection of letters, and if the random jumble is seen to be significant or meaningful, that's the observer's problem and not mine. People see shapes in clouds, hold subjective beliefs about other disparate ephemera, PATTERNS WHERE THERE ARE NONE, so don't you dare get all uppity and snoioopidooopitorous with me, matey.
  3. I was waiting for a bus not like the ones you see, you see, but these episcopalian and gauche conveyances that trolley fat pensioners around as they wait for St Peter, when I was rudely interupppppppted by an overly friendly HAT salesman or as the case may be, person, who ignited my passion for trilbies and eggs, trilbies and eggs, it's all the same to a dying man, a hat is an egg and an egg is a hat, is a hat, is it, it is, yes, I have a way with wild animals, they can smell fear and I have no fear, apart from that of lifts, and animals don't understand elevators, one of their most appealing features I think, they have no need for these in the wild, or escalators or any form of moving apparatus for people, I suppose because they aren't, people that is, animals, are they, surely not, oh well the bus never came, the hat vendor kept on haranguing me and my friend Mr Fnipss, who doesn't even have a head, so the concept of hats is beyond him, as are most concepts, for headless Fnipss doesn't got, as they say in small towns east of Philadelphia, where the Rosicrucians and Christadelphians had their roots, or their origins, that is to say where they began, yours entirely without provocation,

    Hernley Von Plastiberry OCH
  4. I am buying a salmon pink shirt and will get my hair cut with a dinky little mohawk and I'll put in lots of product. I'll wear my collar turned up and will use big words like "disgusting" and "expressionist". I will shake hands with my left hand and snigger at inappropriate times. There will be laughter, but I may only smile tiredly in the manner of one who has seen it all. If they find me boring I will dance, very slowly, and only using my lower body and my nose. I will insist on riding the elevator alone.

    I cannot be stopped, only slowed down for short periods of time.

    These are the words of the prophet Calib Cardboard Constona the Eighteenth.
    He who doubts, dost only destroy his own hose, and needs must weareth the hose of another, yea, and is verily a fool.

    I believe that children are our future. And old people are a burden on the state and must be recycled to feed the children. As children grow fatter, more old people must be sacrificed. This is the Way of Jeremiah the Foul.
  5. I am illiterate ate a little eel it interred a tiny ant under a tiled trail at a tiny rate, yet I ain't interested. I enjoy reading the jumbled word salads that always accompany computer viruses, they are entertaining. More so than Alanis Morissette, who shrieks like she's just discovered a hair in her vomit souffle. I am without merit. No badges or iron-on transfers to endow worth unto me. I want to wear a blazer around with my own symbols of achievement sewn on the pockets. One of these will be the word ACHIEVEMENT mispelled and Mispelet and Miserlepeltenoeuf acheievement

    I want government pamphlets to peter out in the same way my emails do

    Dear citizen, due to the continuing drought it has been decided that Level 5 Water Restrictions must be imposed. These may have an impact on the householder and small business owner. To minimise distruptions to your stupid lifestyle, our special task force of slobbering microcephalic self-hating public management consultants have invented the following suggestions.
    1) Kill yourself. It has been shown that the consumption of water dramatically decreases following death.
    2) Kill others. See above.
    3) Set fire to your eyebrows.
    4) Raise an army of giant mutant ants and milk them for their glandular secretions, then use said secretions to keep your plants alive. Unless the mutant ants eat your plants, in which case you can sell the liquid as Billy Bragg's communist sweat.
    5) Kill BILLY BRAGG
    6) Find a hole, fill it in, then lie down on it as you have become quite tired.
    7) Telephone a midget then hang up before he recognizes you.
    8) Obtain a selection of wigs.
    9) Treat your postman like he is a stinky puppy dog and hose him. Not with water obviously; see number 4.
    10) Move to Africa and send yourself home in an unpressurised box, marked "UNLIKELY".
    10b) Hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot

    It is with deep regret than we inform you that this email is terminated