Is it not time for Prynne addicts to form a support group?
I mean seriously folks I've had a crap day. I feel ill. I've
stood on the garden gnome and crushed it to smithereens.
(accidentally). I made a stew because I was sick of eating
salads in the rain so of course the sun shone then my prize
pepper pot jumped out of my hand and jumped in the
blasted stew which had no garlic because I'd run out.
Screamingly. On top of which I've spent all day trying to
'catch up' with modern technology at Cris Cheek's instigation
by not being able to get one print out of my clip art (sic) - sorry
Cris 'clip arts' is as advanced as I can't get. And all to make
Bob Cobbing a tacky birthday card which he ain't going to
get on time. I tried to strangle the teddy bear but it remained
unmoved with the futility of it all...
So furious and thwarted I tap in the mailbase and everyone's
talking about sugar (sic). Horrid stuff except it converts water
into alcohol. But fair enough. Let's talk about sugar. It reminds
my of my favourite corrected gaff on an errata slip:
For sugary read surgery
(from one of Jeff Nuttall's books)
But the irk is that the only reason we're talking about sugar,
people that ordinarily wouldn't be caught dead talking about
sugar in public, is that Mr Prynne sanctified the word by putting
it down on paper. So we're not talking about sugar are we?
We're talking about Mr Prynne. And to be honest I'm beginning
to develop an allergy to his name - well everybody should have
at least one allergy I suppose. It's beginning to depress me and bring
me out in spots. Nothing against the bloke whatsoever and
nothing against his fans ( I wouldn't swop sweet John Temple
for all the sugar and Prynnes in the world) but my point is that
it's all become a bit overkill at the expense of the rest of the
world. And such a rich and varied world. It takes all sorts. For
better or worse.
Oh well back to the haunted bones of Harold Monro. Harold
who? Almost as good as Squire.
All in good heart and no offence meant.
G.
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