That pure Cane Spirit since 1848.

Monday, June 11, 2007

I looked at my watch,
It was 12 hours into Monday,
So I thought;
I better go and see the Man.
He said; Hi, you got the package?
I said no.
He smiled and he said; I understand…

Apart from pushing things to their elastic limit, I have been mainly concerned with my total lack of progress. A scan of the paperbacks in the supermarket yesterday showed a lot of unimaginative thieving swine have stolen my ideas but rather than faff about, fantasising about the South Bank Show, they have got off their hynies and got themselves printed and onto the shelves.

It was encouraging in a way. I went straight to the liquor section and asked where the absinthe was.
Young lad, weekend job for pocket money, searched all the Bacardi Breezers and Smirnoff WKDs for me. (My cruelty knows no bounds.)
Ok skip it, I said, any calvados?
The little rat found a bottle.
I haven’t opened it and nor shall I. I don’t like the look of it. It looks like medicine.

No comments: