I might be losing it a bit. Okay I have lost it - probably I've gone native in a Kurtz like way. That's what they'll say in the biography sanctioned by my squabbling heirs, I'm sure.
Speaking of Kurtz - if I read one more book with a Bobfuckinggeldof or some such wanker with a quote on the cover along the lines of, "The reallife Kurtz" I'm going to kill 'em. Narrated by an English ferry boat captain transporting ivory for some loon who used to trade ivory who's gone mental. Not an African miltia leader or a nutty journo. It was written by a Polishmen (It's like a drunk Irish cop) who used to drive boats transporting ivory down the Congo river. What has that got to do with African militia crazies anywhere but in the English Lit. departments of the world? Oi, Geldof, Bono! Learn your background, you sound bite addicted chumps.
My proposed alternative to this pool pornography is pictures of roads in varying stages of decline together with a running commentary of how much I disliked driving on it and exactly how far my GPS records me having driven on them - compared with various map source distances. Perhaps combined with fuel economy/cost and all in a open source spreadsheet format. I'm guessing no one wants to see or hear that do they?
However, accepting this supposition leads us to the realisation (us - meaning you have accepted my line of argument simply by reading it as set out - similar to the disclaimers you click legal agreement with, online everyday) that people actually want to see pictures of pool tables in a Jpeg slide format, on some weird 'travel' website. (And don't even think of calling it a blog - the word 'blog' has the soft subtle cadence of the sound of a big fat person taking a shit.) So do you want to look at these photos? Well obviously you do - if you're reading this you sick, degenerate, pool table porno bastard. Get help you sicko.
In return, whilst you try and sate or slake your sick desire for these baize covered houris of all the colours of the rainbow, (Well a fairly unimaginative rainbow, I'll grant,) I will try and wean myself off the sick and tragic affliction that is the Devil that I call Parenthesis.
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