Picture caption: "Look at the mess you've made!"
Yes, it is time to cry, despair, cash the pennies for the rainy day, repent your sins, watch the unfolding of the redressing of class power structures and throw up. I have done the last on that list. My tummy couldn't take the news. Throwing myself around the room and furniture. Writhing about on the floor. Postulating. Shouting. Conjecture and imaginings.
Sexual intercourse. I propose that fucking is the best way to proceed. Lose yourself in someone else. Exploit someone else to achieve ecstasy.
And do it do Death From Above 1979. It is amazing. That song.. Make Love And Listen To... bollocks.. it's a cliche for a reason, my friends.
Here is the sexiest. Hand picked not for love-making. For fucking. And to forget that we are politically fucked.
Death From Above 1979 - Pull Out [via YouSendIt for 7 days]
2 comments:
I went to college green on Tuesday evening as was staying at the Park Plaza just over the bridge and was going to head to Downing Street, however had to get back to attend the mandatory gala dinner.
When it became apparent that Dave was now in residence in Downing Street many people were applauding, that is the calibre of my collegues.
I'm very, very sad.
I'd have been sick. On at least one of them. As a literal representation of how they make me feel. Sick.
I get a bit philosophic and grandiose whenever I go to Westminster. I'd have probably passed out if I'd of been there this week.
Plus, not only have I memorised approximately 80% of all television news presenters, but I have also started to learn their shift patterns too. I'd have gone and shouted chat-up lines at Jon Sopel.
It's today you return, is it not? I bet you are relieved.
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