Ms W very sweetly 'left her phone running' last night at a Sebastian Horsley spoken word thing somewhere in London town (apparently I live there but I've seen scant evidence of this as of yet) & it got me thinking as I sat in pyjamas in my latest digs. Mr H has somehow managed to embrace his bastardhood & make himself popular into the bargain. Bill Hicks did the same. And the 'nice' ones, the Hugh Grants of this world, are also bastards (at least I think he is, judge for yourselves). Do you see where this is going? Probably Rome, & all roads lead there. If I had more time I'd prove it to you with bits of sellotape & graph paper but as I'm in a pub with the worst wireless in the West I'm not going to bother. Instead I'll go back, have a raw cauliflower & one third of a bottle of red wine for my dinner & pretend what's in here makes enough sense to publish. Which it does not...
REVIEW - TOTAL RHUBARB by J. Archer Avary
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It's not often that I read a collection of poetry and think that I'll keep
it by me, but such is the case with this exquisitely painful work by J.
Ar...
1 year ago
7 comments:
I'd say of the seven or eight people who've heard of spoilt brat Sebastian Horsley, most would disagree with the view that he's made himself popular by being a bastard. Pointing out how flamboyant you are by dressing up like Ken Dodd on daddy's money makes you a depsied TWAT in most folks' eyes, not popular with them. And nailing yourself to a cross then falling off in a comical fashion turns you into a ridculous figure of fun, not a cool man-about-town. Spending thirty years spouting on about what a libertine you are because you take drugs and fuck prostitutes (on daddy's money) doesn't instantly qualify you to be one. It in fact makes you a 'look at me, me, me', attention-seeking posh twit with an inferiority complex. Talentless, fuckwitted buffoon who spends his entire life terrified that his wafer-thin personality will be seen for what it is - a sham.
There. Glad I've got that off m'chest.
Come down off the fence, Perry & tell us what you really think. It's precisely this sort of flim-flam that got our great country up the duff in the 1970's & paved the way for Thatcher..
Ha! I don't actually know who he is. I'm not sure if that's a reflection on him, or me?
Welcome back, Mr Stationzebra.
Hi & thanks, Valentine. I've just got in from a gruelling week in the field & I'm having to listen to my flatmate & my Aussie chum's *favourite* gay husband shite chat in the other room. They're talking about menus, for fucks sake. MENUS? Do me a favour, raw cauliflower & wine (one third bottle) does not constitute a menu. Eat & drink what fits in & shut the fuck up PERLEEEASE. As we all know food is petrol & all we need to know is the price on point of purchase. A menu suggests choice which is obviously a nonsense. And gay husbands ? I rest my case....
You seem to really hate yourself. Cheer up!
True, I do hate myself MG, but not in that way...
Wow, you are a man of mystery! ;-)
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