That pure Cane Spirit since 1848.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Rikki don't lose that number,
you don' wanna call nobody else...

It being the dreichest of days, I took myself off, there just then, to a nearby disused industrial estate now turned into a shopping experience, to eat a flame grilled whopper.
In the steamy warmth was a table of Goths! That’s right! If Beardy hadn’t mentioned them a while back I would have believed them extinct, along with Mohawks Suedeheads and Teddy Boy beat-nicks. Not only were they Goths but they were GOTHS. Rather like undercover police Goths. I sat next to them and what were they talking about? Why the Iraqi war, that’s what. Not only that, but they were talking in loud plummy accents in a quasi-articulate manner.

“Oh come on Sebastian! Military intervention was inevitable with the flouting of resolution 1823”
“Good point Jarvinda! Sea-bass always glosses over the UN mandate.”
“I’m merely stating the obvious, that with any hint of international illegality, the coalition forces can never hope to carry the Sunni minority, leading inevitably to a fractured nation and continued internecine conflict.”
“You going to eat that lettuce?”
“Nah it’s fucking minging”

I will stay at my desk next time. We STILL don’t need to be here you know. Talk about slow?

A Great Bearded Tit.

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