no more landlopeing

 Even he confirmed exactly why

You reek 'a; bingo ....parlours

GOT IT

Even if his shitty Two Cities is just about tolerable and a bit better placed

(remeber the last Moor chat " ehhh... you think they taiught you how to be a lit teacher, well they didn't... Grayling et Al haven't even bothered reading actually great lit, Extinction, i know i asked him to his smiley face,  Thomas's likely best book of three quarters of a century

subtly parodying them, not comme il faut... to those unliterary

so called gods of it...

 and if you go though it Thommy 

subtly weaves in [I DO NOT COPY

in fact it hadn't really occurred as three years ago i was only dead and unhappy,

a bit] his book and art recommendations, and long i resisted Scarlet and Black his number one 

top of the pops ... 

...a far more subtle and LEARNED soulful - real ones,  take on head lops"

nope no point, deaf ears 

even where one is meant to have them for the words of other 'travellers' or mountaineers

(there being only honour upon them hillocks

lost intergenerationally in all sorts of other bollocks) 

THE THREE TREES

two aforementioned though only in briefest outline sketch

But it all started with tree grab number one. 

Twenty fourteen, the vultures still just about alive enough to descend

Two men angry at each other back to back, buzzing away

from lunchtime when they started their day

no reason to be even at odds

 mere stupid lost prideful sods

But not one word of coordination collaboration

" you take that branch i will have this...

 and that way we safely maintain a few metres ish..."

The day that one (photoshot) all countryman sanity gone.

The day that one rural honour did, end.

Now.... well a few days back. As perfect timing so as to be snide to the meanest readers ever.

 There is only one* kind of actual satisfaction.

And having deserved infotainment money from even snider snotty readers, is NOT it.... 

(*aside of raising a next generation 

partly ok.. even if almost impossible in the worst ever education of today)

THE BEST AND MOST ENJOYED JOB EVER

And not even on their dull hillocky moors.

Indeed almost equidistant between the two mere tourist ''Parks' 

But i never reveal any truly great place's identity.  

You never know what nonsense gossip or bullshit jealousy.

now... as so oft stated there is no interest in any Swestern place or time...

At all ever except in fact the rare few whom prove the point which is that on the job, you need at least a bit of fun banter to take you through, that's not about the JOB, it's about anything but the job....  as you know how to do the job you're trained in from age ten by the one beautiful big gentle giant of a bloke who took all the time in the world to take you through every step...

But actually caring to pass on certain 'techniques' no matter what, can be more bitterswetly emotional headfuckerly 

put into one image, from a decade ago...

I MUST get back to, as its interesting, when all about down here is not.

a tree...

In fact two!

One fallen, in a large magnificent Secret Garden* of hundreds of hectares nobody else but me ever meandered much

The day the 'music' died...

The day that fire inside

was pissed out all about by shroomy or cider ways, or infact just a death of spirit

which had until that time, been guaranteed as time to be alive

rather than drown in quick lime

" TREE DOWN.... tree grab....!!!!.."

The local croffulate peasantry 

allowed onto the surrounding  unpathed parts of his property...

But that January

One fell just up the actual cobbled pathways there many a century

an easy 'grab' 'n wheelbarrow back to the hovels and caves

 

And January went by...as did Feb

not a peasant in sight...

March even.... (me sneakin out with quiet bowsaw, undercover of  night) 

Obvious SOMEthing..had snapped.

The heart of even Them Woodlanders, broke...

all communal spirit up in smoke

Ahahh but not quite finished that story of whatever gory nonsense had twisted them out of shape..

REAL emotion is what a junk food addicted nation  - munchin Ealenor's manky self pityful,  Eliphant 

may more get turned on by one day

Real JoJo Moyes off to Zurich time....

REAl... where's my axe and my own chopping block, and I'm sure Heath Robinson had some clever solution, 

to the ultimate failure in the only institution

that kept the land ongoing....

best simple job to share with the younger one...

so shetoo may one day just maybe be able to do the satisfying version

of a whole other tree bagged by me...

And left  standing (Ash died back) ... just in case.... there may be that oppourtunity

Of daughter and dad making use of every smallest bit of said dead tree

All you ever wish to do, real home education, as is your responsibility

* of course like all would be aristos Lady Oxford even way back then, utterly lied to her competition " Capability Brown did it don't you know.."  when one seemingly reliable source said he merely once came to tea 

and gave her a bit of planting info and emotional solidarity  

"Well owzz about that then!.." with a big fake smile.

 So just in case i die of serendipitous joyfilled plenishy stuff - real nectar, that proves itself in extremely good Bristol Chart ratings.

Not that the Swestern varieties can maintain  even their smiles  between the varying plant tops they stumble around endlessly, in the dark...

And anyway, no interest, other than that wonderful young man and less plenishy babe mum,  we huddled just lasterweek  and i had never noticed one before but he did and pointed it out to us the other side of the street of dead bees...

"keep a journal young man its truly interesting the eco upheavals this one...especially here.."

Now..i know they will have listened (posher version of Captain Fantastic en famille) and even done IT...especially when told a story of  how we gaggled around the first one seen and then where the second one was and what happened in between.

 indeed my photos are of a  far more sylvan beautiful version... a real one rather than the other come-latelys around and about..

i have zero interest in.

Other than nobody can listen to a pretty good Socratic instruction developed some years ago..

" i do not care or judge or lament i only deal in facts...  only women have the 'voice'... what with Messrs Mister Fix it, Clifford ehh those other names that's a bout all peeps can ever talk about... him and Ghislane's island ...  copper Couzens...  etc etc even if they miss out from the list about equal really rather unpleasant baby bashers and we now notice the birds have joined in in the mad fire-starting thing.... ONLY women can speak passionately in public and it may get some traction...  fact... the greens may be weirdo failures and embezzlers of my sidekicks time, but they knew that one a decade ago, put a bird up... she may be listened to just a little more than if some bonkers bloke who one just knows especially if he goes for long walks in the hills alone regularly  for his health and efficiency, is guaranteed to be a headbutter in the making.... or if in Pastylands a drug dealer's scout keeping an eye on the horizon for incomming... its HORRID to be a man in any part of Swesterlands...  anyway my hobby has been attempting to bolster, encourage, enthuse, even enrage with quite good jokes these days it has  to be said, those whom DO have the future voice...  entirely unequivocally... if THEY have a bee in their bonnet - teasing it out and then attempting to encourage ' sit or better be a wandering hobo.... and write it just splurge it all the way.... ' .."

Anyway... the one thing of course they could never listen to is just how foolish and prejudiced one can be  DESPITE knowing fact!

And she didnt look a day over about sixty two or three...in the darkened leylight of the energy fields all about...

having heard REALLY what the big (like DIVINE grift) grift is ( i only use that awful word as its become slightly trendy of late as an elbow jab that won't work). 

Indeed  what matters is that even snivelly teenagers knew that THE sex bomb of the flicks 

and even nowadays despite my hairdye prejudice AND knowing theyre stupid  retards,  as it fails ..... being natural silvering (i still do talks and photoshoots) THEY say causes them to look younger than their age as "the skin ages in sympathy with the silverin'  and i know i look fuck-me sexier even if nobody but you has ever put it quite so well..." and sunglasses as they cause earlier cancerdeath...

She still is THE sexiest real sex bomb we all knew back then even if twenty or even thirty years older than us snivelly teens...  

Anyway where did i get to.... 

THE END of the yellowed badly maintained brick road...

In the ...well not saying!  In fact that's a sneaky way to do it, place it on Exmoor! as rival....   

" thanks for telling us those stories.... is this it here [on my phone] ... ?" 

" yes ... i promise you'll like it from your clearly wise mind to even slag off your own born a Catholicism...  

"but thats not what its about, you even heard the old scholar agree with me its a beautiful tract about real pacifism..

"never mind when i watched it i realised that winter 1976  it imprinted on me  a good balanced morality

"and ive never been able to not be on the lookout for she

"is my perfect one...dark hair...skinnyish... 

"does NOT  let him get away with an easy ride...

" youve had you cake and eaten it too M asssterrr Rid...

" but you're not getting a free pass back into the bracken with  me unless you... 

"god i learned so much from that even if of course one fails to remember, and one is failure, nevertheless superb true feminist tract too.. yes she looks a bit Lorny too... though is far sexier...

"anyway back to business... so your Papism... how interesting is THAT!!!! god nobody has told me that before..."

" ahhahhh kind sir let me tell you another story... i was living in the Far East and a friend of mine was taken to the hospital and we knew dying. A Buddhist priest scuttled in from  behind the fridge almost like a cockroach ... 

 " and let me tell you what he said to me a  mere in his ashram eyes [******]* ...well clearly they aren't quite as they seem either.... "

* not telling its so good there's a whole book innit  a proper one....if only they dare....

But the real book, as to be botheredin truths of peoples other side of planet even if their nutjobbery infested London many a decade ago - no other county except Surrey of course had the insanity to believe their be-cloaked grift ... is not for the person of the other people. Who's job is merely to set example regarding her own truth telling of her own people.

Even if they never ever will as sadly i lament and daily discover.

HOW....ever.... i know what is at root. They merely can't listen; eg 

" let me tell you.... this bird i met randomly yesters... i didnt pay her much mind as she was in a flock rather past their sold byebye date... as i just added in a bit to their tour guided by someone who really DID reveal the deeper down truths to me.... 

inadvertantly

but then she had been listening and moseyed up my way  and we had this wonderful chat no holds barred based on SELF DEPRICATION the sexy sort...

yes what you hear is right we can't ever quite tear out the bloodied Mary thing.. or that silly shaded nonsense ... "

" hey but you alone maybe have the best fun -  sin, go and lie to your priest about it's frequency and absolute unfealty....  and then start over again redeemed.. even if all disloyalty is only sadness in reality, eventually" 

" anyway let me tell you a story.. about my time in the Far East... and that age i wouldnt worry  you're still  just a baby compared to me !!"

Ferk Me... i really did think maybe sixty three

A straight back bouncy body and super super sparkly  eyes...

fizzing out in the gloom

As i say, so often " hmmm....maybe ten maybe twenty percent really do LET GO all the way....  no more coyness no more fake politeness no more pretending its all peace and harmony in their local 'community'.... or as i would see that on e atop the Herrock Hill National Park just her bounding up she faster than me way past seventy three... no sports shoes or even water bot....

indeed usually attired quite witchily....

alone have what they all want, but too scaredy cat to let go and find it

... almost eternal youth AND desirability... "

stupid me why didnt i grab her and at least get her email " we need to collaborate on that one -  you ALONE daring to besmirch the unbesmirchable.... and i know you would answer one unlike all the rest i have absolutely no idea ever nowadays what on earth any of em actually have in their head behind their far less alive eyes than yours... so burnin bright
with truth serum...

and realising the key is in givin up ever again bein uptight

shame most of the rest  dont know whats best

for them..

always....even down under ... youll be liking the weather then hahh hahh..."

" bit chilly if you ask me..." 

In a manner thats the EXACT opposite of a moan:  pure unadulterated cheek, even at the expense of her regional tour guides... her local friends. 

 " yes but they all pay ten pounds ...."

We may well  need a ' fight back for humanities' but there's no hope until they start to believe the human words were invented for a reason. Free means free.  

Now what a truly splendid way to end... I do love a rare but worthy honourable textin' opponent. And even  a hippo  oath pledged among the vipers, cannot be broken, in my book.

I am now officially a superfan...and at superwar

 Chaka having an argument with  the stupid poshtarts of 4chan... via 4 chan.... once removed

" all was fine until those absurd little wanky boymen tried to get the girls by faking being real men with their silly little DJ rigs..... DJing killed real music [and a fine thesis] and is FAKE music... "

Posh..at 08.59... " chaka Kahan we love you [ yet more people pleasing when theyve no idea how to hate onself for not pleasing her one request that one night] but you are wrong...[smiley smiley Cheltenham LAdies  smileyspeak...]....."

Nobody argues with a bouncy real  Boudica ever....in my book.

THE END

wow that's a bit of a later-than-usual

 sunrise insight.

So.... you awake in the perfect Sunday Morning quiet atch yestermorn and put on the wireless and get a (there are MUCH better interesting snippets in the can all summer)

Sunday 6am comedy 

 https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/w3ct983h

moan moan moan....

Now i  have only one interest in 'Christianity' - having against my better judgement even 17 years ago allowed them to have conversations with me and discovering that its all about THEIR pathetic little soul, now... only

not as it was from  the real reformation maybe 100ish years ago about doing good works for the common good, now... here...

which was a fair dunkum a fair usage of skyfaerie made up nonsense...

But you really can't have it both ways, i bet it never says in any modern history books, that the natives would happily Bonobo each other from dawn til dusk...

("if it moves fuck it if it doesn't fuck it til it does")

Of finest Africa from top to bottom...

And you didnt get your head chopped off for a bit of bottie action...

Even if the Bonobos are just playing at it and all also do the serious side just above so as to foster them selves..

But being the whole of poor Africa was emotionally blackmailed into this awful Death Cult (as Chinua's fine  Things Fall apart brilliantly takes you back to...) called Jesusism  and theyve taken it a tad literally regarding anyone not doin it only missionary position with a missionary of the opposite sex...

And wish them an early  very very nasty departure to hell...

On really does have to join up those dots, too, just how him on his so called cross has made so many previously laissez faire  fine African bushmen and babes,  bein bonobo or chimp depending on the weather

 rather terminally cross...

WE...beat that fake Black Bunny

 

Now... back to the beginning and far more poignant pondered material....

And maybe clothes back ontime...

Even if i don't understand..i just don't, nor do i belong, where  the perfect fun happy  family can't even persuade their teens to take their trousers off

 midsummer at our  riviera, not even a Summer Breeze....

Now....

 If the one ok artist must ignoretoo...

I think i shall one day, but i have to incorporate the only GREAT artist and his mode...

" hmm you are interesting Peter JA ... each paintin' of your Monty Python on Viagra... collection has a few lines of poesy with it.... thats what i need to do but didnt feel twas appropriate all these wanky purists think that their customer's imagination is superior to their so called art.... "

I shall, also...one day even if the wanky word The Mong (MFA innit) demanded 

" even my art is inadequate only the word can really get the knives out and cut the butter... lets see what i can Utter..."  one day attempt to showcase my thousands of anti-berbhard snaps

Mostly never ever aforethought or staged - never enough time or place or protection

One called ??? foraging on their hillocks, next to the so called man who can only think of his foraging in the autumn, so as to enlighten his clouded mind that can't even appreciate these mindblowing early ones...  or something similar except its THE SID adjacent serendipitous happenstance one that started it really only half posted i care to attempt to make sense of all their nonsense... that is now officially beyond all comprehension.

Which is freedom and a "get IT back " i wrote on my main new notepad at the beginning of this year. Not knowing if i could even get a bit of 'it' back...

And then i get the whole full house!

Talking of which... now according to the vile backstabbery all about i won't even emerge from hers... today.

Never mind get my fairly earned humble pay.

We shall see who lives ONLY for ...now

 

golly the Oggle spyware does a useful thing sometimes...

 even if i blew it's fuse long ago

Dishin' up another lovely  unknown from that REAL summer, likely just cos i rit '1976'

 (the only one who did the Badger Baiter's best  one, just as good) 

it being safe now to return to that Test being the Lennon adjacent fake family man pretending to bridge across the pond,  has thankfully retired  to contemplate his last unshakable  coil  of old microphone cable around his fake rubberneck.

anyway maybe the texan weather of London that one made her feel at home and all sweet smellin of the dustbowl....

Righty ho ....now one needs ...

nothing, except to work on the Rough Guide to what the vile continent really was, even if nuthin to do with me and anyway  it was as if the boards of the ships that they slept upon that perraps first  Mayflower, were  a second sighting, heralding,  of just how dead-plank like they would be in the sack, during my adventures in them fabulous  mid eighties and on...   

 And thus i am only European; nevertheless history must not be rewrit nor the travel guides.

Anyway as one saw in those eighties, meandering their fake historical monuments  god they had  a complex...

And if they had just stopped the Easy Ridin' and thought.... if we stick a snub nosed little  Los Angeline junky...

Whom actually was a KRAUT and her dad a bus man...big ones...

Indeed i do hope Nige doesn't play this at any future rallies.... or we could get 'im where it hurts...

Anyway merge a ruined kraut, with a bit of a toff, from Ill Notty lands...

 

And you get a perfect mongrelisation  where the nutjob Kraut (and ok a bit of English in err too mixed up with the coke she would have applied externally, thus  inventing the fizzy gusset way before i even dreamed it up in a moment of fizz a few days ago..)  managed to kick the snotty English out of the snotty English and create perfection 

before the rest of em a bit late to the party -  even if rightly attempting to take one out of the greatest fakes of all time

Anyway that will all have to wait even if i have zero interest in any manufacture or origin story of anything its merely do they have heart or soul

and furthermore even if a mere first draft and something does need editing if i ever get a socket...

audios 4 5 and 6  16 aug waffle folder

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1_TW5l0ZG5-mdXpc7q4A6TybQ7U9cHS0d?usp=sharing

You know there is no hope whasoever as number three mentions.... when in this region it is impossible now to have a conversation even with a sportwear clad silly old man,  even HINTING  that 'magyc mushrooms' "sprinkled over ones cornfales every morn" just like the other drugs so many politicians even are dependent upon.... may not be the key to all future psychology...

Nope...one gets smiley-growled at  even with the sexy girfriend in jogger pants aside, as it's not comme il faut, which is merely another more elegant gazelle like phrase for being a dead sheep 

which i know is the key to life, alive ones awake every morn with pure and simple thought in their heads, always, " hahh hahh that was lovely awaking to LAndslide after that perfect nap... before meeting the perfect and so polite immediately chatty and friendly family.... there on my last day"

so, later

 There's a letter to be taken

being I'm loyal to every European

That can now find the flaw, neigh error....

In the stony circular wonderchat with them Thomasinas...

As i realised via  The one and only Queen of Soul

stompin at the mere second rater's last gig

who's own so called Queenship couldn't  even calm the soul of addiction to the grape

and a real healer can make an old crippled pervy get up from his chair at 3 minutes fifty perraps to have  abetter view of the mountains from above

and her erroneous book selection

That indeed to be esteemed enough to take on some necessary correction.

Is indeed even better than meetin' ones equal.

chapter 1

 "so... is she number four...?. I mean it's obvious she's had to duel her elders for every bit o' attention.... and ferk me....... she does it the AUFENTIC way... five year olds oops sorry lass... nearly six.... don't meet eye to eye, 

quite so flirtily ...

old buggers like me 

just the other side of the perfect waters 

that don't separate youze lot from me.... "

"no number three...

" but as you can see ...i mean little miss bossy boots, we even had to lug her scooter over half the bleedin' moors..."

" MOTORBIKE mummy! "

" as you can see...and hear..." 

*******

chapter 3

" .. hey .... there's no signal here .....we're in a nullspot look all around and if you see the hillbrowlines all around you'll have to go up there to get a whisper of it...

" nahh it dont matter i was just using mum's phone to call my phone, ive lost it..."

" ahhahhh young man well that's perraps a good lesson in you can't rely on these things always as we were just talkin' 'bout...and that silly government alert that awoke the sheep dozing outside  your tents "

 

1976

Now even if i Missrecalled one fine event, that of The Hurricane and the world's most desirable fiddler  ever, and best, indeed a year earlier.

In the great rewrite of history that fair dinkum started with the worst blokes in the world, then... ignoring the first propper pukka appearance of punk, never mind annotatin them history books just so, even if my Deserted Aisle would  be only quiet girly tunes, "this is a song about an old Welsh witch.." my my we've met a few attempting to monetise them...

All the incame to The Marches, ever did...foraging for something that never existed...

As thisteryear i have attempted to save so many from " ehhh... a great heritage expertbabe said to me all her heritage compulsion is made up as nobody can imagine why forexample they built these stupid stone circle inventions.... "

And they often get a little jaw dropped that someone dare not to be in the most conformist mindset ever in history, all tourism is....

  Indeed all them 'stones' could'v been for for all we know..

To tempt  the Great fizzy one to do a live gig so as nobody need bother mergin' ICE leccy gloves with gussets inc as someone found the magyc formula long ago...

in that glorious year when she should have drowned them hormoneless m oanin Ramones and taken her true throne upon ...indeed kicked down their silly Stoneyhenge and saved everyone a lot 'o time..

THE PURPOSE of all that sweaty stone work was over thousands of years to only tempt her... 

  

Now... even if a bit of a fake Johnny come lately

....The infamous 1976 UK drought lasted for 16 months in total, beginning in May 1975 and running through August 1976. The most intense peak of the dry, hot weather—often remembered as the 1976 heatwave—lasted for about two months from late June to late August 1976

And a propper summer spawns a bit of a rant later on that  glorious....year...

oops how to actually give all the so called Gen Z a mental illness that'll really piss em off and make realise they're entitled to nothin, at all....  when they realise that in fact exactly mine was the 'chosen' ones...

i mean what a ferkin discovery!

Hmmm... no Queen Joan.... and a bit too much 'o Joni.....

 Now.... even if i discovered I am part of the mass formation psychobubble Miss Informin'

Even if merely for fun.

You cannot have a better endin to it, nodding off in the empty heather and new gorse floweration...

A whole perfect fourty five minutes, earned...

And awaking with a bit of Stevie in your ear.

The nice quiet one. Which is me, especially when later on walking down you encounter THE 'landslide' but as the header thingummy says this is happy times, only

So yes a nice chat with the welly booted young boy atop the hilloclish nag with mum and dad " your mum must be one of the rare good ones left,  everyone else would call her a child 'aboozer allowing you up there in wellies.. ponces .."

 But how was i to know 'awakening' from the best ever mid afternap...

to Stevie...

I would be taking the perfect socio realistic rare bird photo, a bit later, entitled:

family. a real one 

or if one was intellectual in a simple way, and knew what saudade' means, rather than the fuckwit AI version which merely copied the fuckwitless people version ' a word that cannot be translated' ....

saudade we can get it back...as the Portuguese actually say privately to their confiidantes.

An  hour later... " they loved it but no unicorns yet...

" so how old are you .. five....ehh six... [ the neuros never meet you in the eye aged...]  ?"

the biggest unneeuro diverged into frruitcake smile in fact almost looking a bit swiveleyed...

" five ...tommorows my birthdayyyyyyyyy...!"

a little later.

Mum, a REAL one: " you're right she will i do believe be in lead charriot sh'es an utter terrorist you know..."

" i could see that the moment i laid my eyes on y'all...well done youtwo....!"   

No i shall chose when it's black bunny time

 

not the ineffably fucked up faeries

never mnd the unfixable fucked up ai that is as random as if it was on psychs...

but gave me a timely reminder

the meaning of life is i hope the farmer on the sunday mornin farmin show knows he gas a rare breed he should take to a show...

" me [f] i'm up every day harvestin...  roamin the stock....FIXING...  and youtubing it too ..." 

( to be researched for fakery but she sounded pukka, A KEEPER as they say...)

anyway so the wise ones have spoken of late of their Pushkin . 

I'm not so sure.... not my thing lyrical novelling...

and his stuff on " Eve" looks a bit ehhh.... whateverr . ..

but i guess a reason to bother 'keepin on' as they say... having had the briefest nose....

sounds saner than weirdo psycho serial badtobabebloke  ajacent Dickens 

“I loved you once, and perhaps that love has not entirely died.”

“The illusion which exalts us is dearer to us than ten thousand truths.”

Anyway... (he the very very blackface understood.... yesterbench...)

 " well yea i dont believe in anyone much but i guess as YOU mentioned Soccers maybe had  a bit of it right but not all of it.. two folk encounter each other natter and via some too-big-word dialectic method three is created... so write it down... yet again i am impressed that you recall our earlier chat when everyone else one may as well be pissin into the wind.... "

As discovered in the solo dialectical methodology that beats (oops ... SAbine on why McGilchrist is a fat whisky addled  loser  believeing in adequate science as always perverted by holy vests and their interests..in never picking holes in theior own mefodology.... as Lewonitin so beautifully informed in Doctrine...rippin you off for a hundred quid for his made up book..

LINK!!!!!!!!!!! soon)  

Soccer's sham version.... 

Other Peoples Jobs... to write soon, and this lot would think they get a mention, mere amateurs beyond comprehension

in a place where they never stop to think..never mind landlope.com

They have nothing on, them..

as the audios yesters i think said making too many just in case

"  ten quid an hour to merely shovel your shit...or rebuild your fences [ you could do yourselves, i'm no expert or anything special, i just stop and think, and then shitshovel,  as a splendid  one i see has rebuilt her own] 

" but twenty quid [ this is old money, late 10's prices  before the fuel prices went up and terrified into headlight lit bunny's eyes syndrome, poor old lonely things figuring how they can afford the gas or insurance all that 'living my best solo life' maybe wasnt quite the best policy...never mind who may come knock knockin on their door or head,...if they live their best life alone up in the hills.... ] if i have to listen to you moan about him outdoors .. and your marital problems..."

But them..  even if The Cornish gibber i think must get a mention, having given me the best word about herself so farmers lassish... and on the spirituals and dodgy drugstoo...

behind her bouncy smile...

 otherwise they're all too-busy amateurs here, As against the Queen and her beardy king....

scene: with my rare gift to self, new bluetooth headphones twenty quid.... all morning in paradise digging her huge pile of horsehit for her really rather ignored very hilltop roses for years [ one can always tell i mean if nobody has fed them a decade its obvious that the 'perfect couple' ..aren't....but i don't judge i just DO..the job]

very much enjoying the twoface song half the day...

and then as the day goes on he comes along and mandominates via his ridiculous shiny not very muddy, newish,  mandigger....

you could have no funnier a scene as the local (presteigne) most super abundant community-beardy always there at all the gatherings of the 'beautiful people' with his charity neon jacket and begging bowl..

super 'green' entrepreneurial operation in the hills ripping them off 150 quid a workshop, of a day at best...leasrning nothing but how charmy-beardy he is in his tailored trendy workwear  and chopper 

Anyway her and i had consensus as to where TIME AND MOTION - me caring, for her every second on the paid job, in her silk purse,  even if she has to change her clothes thrice a day  - one outfit for the morning yoga guru grit, a second for cooking lunch and  a third for coming outdoors and titillating her slave... as we would both enjoy ..her act.. rather than just wheeling the barrow perraps that may have been better exercise than the compulsory morning yoga sessions with the guru.. a long drive away...

But nevertheless the real farmer or slave loyal to his mistress plots the best usage of his limited energy -  her having vamped a fair bit just for fun.. REGARDLESS of her...

" best place is i wheelbarrow it in from down the hill ... is exactly there  so as that main pil;e will serve as efficient repository and then a smaller portion goes there... that pile for that  one there.... then max efficiency distributing it with minimum distance and ruts to climb over there there and there... great ...we are a team..."

 extremely efficient usage of her man's time and every motion planned in advance for her pocket.... indeed against ones own best interests in saving at least half the time on the job if not carefully aforethought through...

And then along comes mister fancy green machine (having hidden away all day until now likely addicted to phone porn in his 'coppiced' woods, as half of em are...) and... no.... never mind having not bothered to fertilise their roses for years despite their lie " we are stewards of our lovely gardens" usual horseshit...

he cannot listen to the polite man and his plans,  on the job he has been on a  few days....

.....and no must get his digger pile of the last lot...

there, exactly where  both Mistress and slave   had agreed... is the LEAST efficient place to place it

and the .... rumpus caused me to do what i never do...loose something in the emotional  rumpus (and superb material i am trying to record in my minds eye as to the whole con of all of them) on the floor and ...

never again find them, buried in muck

he of course never had the humanity to assist in the search for a little later on

fabulous chapter any sane publisher would snigger at

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

what !!??!! CHAKKA,  has taste as GOOD as CHAKKA... even if theyre fake and  proves she is real,  her  disc one thats not very  compulsory sisterhood or brotherhood 

AND ..is a FARMER

god thats it the greatest conceivable smug limey  mistake in life ever..it was .. "is" ... could have been

and couldv been... " limey i think i like you....you can touch them if you want...

" ohh well be like that.... " 

 

ahahhhh...

 ...but my way in with that Serbian priest . .

its the versions that matter

not this one 

"document" to quote a dreadful Anglophone and his dead language that sums up the whole snotty  scroffulism and why anyone muso expert should be sent to the camping ground with

Ivan  .

i searched the docs     and know which is the only testament he must die listenin' to ...

as it takes us right back to where Anik was sat.... deciding what she should do...

but sadly didn't do it all the way......and save him from the chipfat

back home.....

never mind the one great writer, for his age.... to manage that greatest ever wordplay 

neigh proof of some wonky otherforce

whilst his only ever fey

contemporaries up the road

could only ever  flog a dead rustled horse

of hey Jules .... guaranteeing his early hearse

too

but my AI aint trickin me into thinkin it knows me

as i keep two versions

 entirely airgapped so as to avoid its perversions

of the language the learnins

and my non earnins...

 last one very updated  ...for the 700+  so called readers already poked their nosey scrooge noses in already today i cant keep up...

what you are missing is in today's audios...
those have no 'stats' so i wont even be able to tell if you cock your wrinkled old noses at thosetoo ... or use them as users do...

without giving anything back....

which is always the only real rocket fuel there is.... 

ohh i forgot how could i....

 that's dedication to my actually beloved  so called readership....

Her.... "  bugger off muster i can have my babies AND make a record, multitaskually ...too..." 

Sometimes it has pure gold...... 

"sidekick..[i NEED ONE] ....get on the  troll, to  babes hour....! .... Jenni tried to imply-lie  that Saint Joan was her guiding rusty diamond so fake gushingly ..... and she didn't spit back at the usual Britolined old hag  pretendin..    

Joan Baez on why Bob Dylan didn't get involved with her activism

(cos he was a fey user, whereas the REAL 'activist' even marries one of her kind in the slammer so she cant even have her nuptials...no English would even understandyou go ALL the way or you ain't... babe...) https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p05zx8x5

"this one however ...takes NO prisoners..... and was tellin me to grab these !!... indeed i hope she mentions just how prejudiced the English are behind they feyboy effete drunken leers...

 " 

errata wrong Roughie... being my hobby for all the 80s was factchecking almost every bar and cafe...

And 99% of reviews were fabulously accurate about atmosphere, smiles, real music, AFFORDABLE decent grub...

And best corner of the cafe to meet some 'locals'...

oops on desktop, sadly realising ALL artistes just take the piss...

The one and only piece of art that actually had me mesmerised...OWNED my soul

(i actually bought for twenty quid  Deecember 2022 however... when the ultimate gibber/illusionista ripped me off for the bus fayre - rather spending it on her fine son's £7 comic with a promise of immediate refiund - her being THE 'spiritual' Queen of Hay-on-Wye.... the greatest ever example of how every single one a conperson....

last bean needed   to go and collect it after the exhibition was finito.... 

i didn't mind  for me that I failed to honour my pledge, as my excuse was sublime and perfect and great future material...... i do mind that he the impoverished Indian photographer who took this great art picture...didnt get his quid after the local so called 'charity' have taken their ferkin greedy   nineteen to pay for their admin and fancy equipment

Anyway..99% of Rough Guide material perfect...my hobby to check... flaneur around every backest ally and see what they may have missed...

 and they really managed to get it right - ' if you are a reasonably humble meanderer just needing a 'real' place to stop and read a book over a coffee we recommend x or y...' 'back in the day' when there was just love, for THE INFORMATION being accurate.. true humanity

Except here.... i made it there first - before them pictured below even if i am sure they are ruined nowadays,  into the true soul of this very best Former Sovplace.... because 'it' - the whole notion one can tour any place and know anything much beyond best coffee spots..  really is all a bit trite...

Never mind having to work with them to know them, you have to know and indeed love the locals ... whom you are perhaps going to put into your pages..

And the first time i ever saw her Yugoslav face...

I just knew... she isn't in their guide book.. as she would take a whole five volumes of War and Peace to describe, justly..... and i was right.

But nobody will write that.

Which is merely prostitution - using the 'exotic' as refection of your own bland nothingness...  to spice up your ..dead soul ... especially if British 

ahh yes i gotta get back to that Serbian priest i bet i can find him 

ops there i was being so smug (OI YOU, ME, LINK THIS ONE TO OTHER ONETOO)

 " ahahh i think thats the very brief keep them coming version done from yesterdays digital diarrhea....all complete...  bloody well done keeping on top of the 'now' whist revving up to deep dive a bit backwards... and i see a whole sidetopcic of the weave - all just one dull tapestry, entirely omitted... damn ad as usual loads of views come quickly i should ignore their talons but i like to do then forget ..."

 as aide memoire 

why is your black rabbit really dead... indeed never was alive...

HER... being such a fake - and she is the one who maybe will have more emotional input into damaged child links.... than almost any other

a pure prostitute... some would call evil

unless my missive went to spam..i do take great care to attempt to ensure doesnt happen...

she in here (AUDIO) is using you... merely for adrev..

a real 'homeless' person can't even attract that as they require an address...

I would never even wish in this country populated by the worst ever users...she represents, sorry, sad but true.... if i were a girly i would be ashamed, especially of...herrrr....

https://www.ralphschism.com/2026/08/sorry-watership-downs-black-rabbit-of.html

" so you Mister are indeed priceLESS..i bet you sell better than her with hers all neatly set out.."

 now.. long ago (2020 indeed) 'gonzo advertising' i invented at great length in my notepads out that spring summer every day in the sun...

(and i have recently shared it with a very very much enjoyed very gay man from LA ad land - one man i have enjoyed bantering with, the ONLY one for years,  whilst i sweated and groaned.. and pumped topless to tease him.... 

taking great care of his Mistresses' lands...

... sadly too young even age 45ish to appreciate actually it IS timely... thAT NO ONE CAN EVER BE TRUSTED I MEAN mISTER 'tREWS' QUITE A GOOD EXAMPLE A DECADE HE WAFFLES ON ABOUT AUTONOMY OR WHATEVER AND THEN RUNS AWAY TO THE 'CHURCH'... OOPS ACC CAP... NO TIME TO DE CAP

anyway just in case...

I have to admit that my 50km a week week in week out has been rather special here..

mainly cos the ehh ...well back in THE day one could depend on the superb Rough Guides...

another exemplar of the die the musac died..

Me my always present book travelling companion from the early 80s,  as well as the Ruskies.. frogs and even some English writers in the lonely life of an ACTUAL 'adventurer'  - i shall come back to her in a bit as its THE crux of all million words...

But you just knew as soon as Lonely Planet became a competitor 'travel guide' it was the End Times.

RG always told ALL the truth... if i worked for them now i would have a job describing " well..all the tourist tropes say 'THE WALKING centre of something or other..' but don't tell any walkers,  we wandered the hills around and about their gateway walker towns and nobody was ever seen...walking.. or driving out for lovely balmy picnix...in the breezy hills..... . fucking HEAVEN on earth..."  

Whereas LP gave this university graduate version of travelling off the beaten path - fake... Utter bourgeois " well you may consider taking a whole water purifying plant with you if you venture into those hills.." and also gave truly duff nightlife info basically where fake underclass people would come and show off their tattoos if it were nowadays..

whereas old school real people knew tattoos were so ugly and just a waste of travelling cash....

but neither would dare Utterly spear all travel or most of it.... and give real reason as to why...

soon

Sorry Watership Down's The Black Rabbit of Inlé was a FAKE, too

3 audio files

after monthly reset

01 

02

and 03

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/15o_zBeMHylntXBgoAbYTvZozLSnDo4Dc?usp=sharing

CONTENT SUMMARY OF THREE AUDIOS but earlier ones are far far more arty and deep

Now..in this 'episode' which is just the same dull old funstuff for years..
how the very sad fakes came and invaded the Uplands - the  fringe lands above about 200m where the catchment of the 'environment' lives and even 'famous' academics  plagiarised it (for cash) far far more than any poor dead otherpeopled person...

And how the land died due relationship dying due Tolle and his like making everyone too fussy...

why they are SO SO lonely and unhappy all over in their dream retirements... 

and all that

But far more  root of the broken branches,  how almost all British i have ever had the displeasure of objectively monitoring, from aside, really do bugger up their kids as a justifiably famous Serb said " we would watch on our telly just how dodgy youse all were..." not my words.  

POST NOT READY TIL 0800

anyway i always used to quite like the latest politics of THEIR 'religions'  but the vile BBC are vile for only one reason one started to notice 15 years ago they set up their website of course so its almost impossible to even copy and paste the titles of their programs into ones pamphlet operation which i began sixteen years ago I am no Johnny came a few weeks back...

And i DO get it how the pretend whiteman  - its always the men... are so covetous of even their Rupert (private schoolboy) words they guardrail their (95%) awful beeb sites..

and then even made it not possible to spread among the non immos - those far too sane to ever come to so called England even for the far more kinky-pervy-exotic brand of hookers london is crammed full of than anywhere else in europe...    

i was always with the sane Former sovs and their GREAT art

anyway The Sunday show...

 https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006qnbd

so interesting even if long ago i met the first of these new brand of younger hip male 'social' religious types who have the ULTIMATE spin operation about even...

The Homeless....

Now as in 2013 with a  splendid very sweet female sidekick we - her really....went undercover in a  truly brilliant  unsexist modern update edition of Orwell and His Down and Out...among the 'churches together' feeding the tramps of Horrorfordshire..

what was so fascinating was how every tramp meal they made it about THEM... their piety their vampiric talons....

when 'charity' for the tramps is meant to me non denominational....

A FREE lunch..or in fact dinner at teatime...

Every single one of their 'volunteers' the most emotionally vandalising user imaginable...

using THEIR position ..

behind the counter, with the spoon.... so as to decide who may get their charity and whom maybe not so...

which harms the tramp class in more ways than one - to have to PRETEND to like and agree with some ladle wielding patronising, liar... is far worse than ...

to be cont

but its the BLOKES - these fast talking blokes of the new religions who are Glastonbury PR trained and so ultra smiley i still remember well the first i met 2020...and his so so smiley  narcissistic me alone i have the true way, bullshit   "eschatological" waffle..

basically be a junky for a while, get on some programme by sucking up to some less groovy priestly type... get REALLY De Botty ish with your trendy fast talk... that sounds so so Glasto guy smoothe talk..

and youtoo get on the wireless..on Sunday..

ALL they actually care about, just like the fake eco 'activists' of The wye Valley.. getting their five minutes in the sun... 

OOPS THERE IS AN IMPORTANT BIT MISSING FROM HERE, here by 0900

Now...HIS questions are truly beautiful

 Yestermorn in his blue top...

He not only listens, but my my he really does have the finest mind.

In fact he alone is a true work of 'art'. 

Anyway the land...

Now i know, to the Lowlander, suburban drifter inner... this is a sop, a trope... something not really understood, nor actually enjoyed,  even if by default preached as their journey's end. Which is not quite the right usage of sop/trope unless the real context is entirely storyfied..

Which is all i care about as it's more thrilling than Tolstoy's Resurrection (minus the last 2 pages as he also agrees) or Rachel Cusk's (only good writer in UK this century even if a splendid half breed) fabulous efforts to describe it all... and rightly leave the reader a bit unsatisfied neigh even baffled, as she knows it's almost indescribable..

But ten out of ten for attempting

I know i have eleven in my chronicles...

Ohh yes that loser and shirker Odysseus with his mere twenty year camper van trip... and pandering to the horsey fans...

And all that... he needs a challenger. Who may manage maybe even twenty five or so.... I do love my Oddessay to

absolutely NOwhere... and got there.

But back to the rest...i mean for years i really do quite enjoy the weekly dose of the mainly Abrahamic hippos and was genuinely sad that Edward Stourton 'passed' - my my how that is becoming the latest sop word for died, dead parroted, kicked count Buckethead permanently,  probably of being in an office for far too much of the week.. as being outdoors all i care about keeps you staistically alive longer...

Anyway switching on and even hearing that one department of the same Abrahamic one are now wordcriming another office department next door in the same building of the People of The Book

 department

(he loved my garden allegory - " i had a vision as if i am the prophet of all prophets, not for profit.... about a decade ago... my old yard just sitting pondering why all religious twats seem to dislike other religious twats.... and almost deny other departments exist!.. which does make me truly sad and i don't understand how bleak they are... 7th days decry the majority who worship sundays...etc.... so i was sat on my old sofachair  with all the lovely natural weed-plants left and tended, one weedplant has that species of insects buzzin around it, the next plant a different species etc... and the plants need the insects to pollenate and give it a reason to even exist....so in reality each plant is an almost separate ecosystem evolved hand in glove ... all these different quite separate independent ecosystems in my old yard garden.... not really at all involved with each other....just being.... equally now ...

[ohh splendid even if not a summery one with all the summer  'weeds' towering here and there this, to desktop-hand, one of millions, has far deeper double entenders, soon]

"so yes...  none of these plants  - my parable for dodgy religions, are special or unique they're all just dotted about and a bit dotty in their ownness...

" and has happened after years of enjoying them, a baddie may just come and roundup em all to death.... but actually as i wouldnt even wish a butterfly pinching a bit of each sour and soulless nectarine flower ... any harm that wasn't   part of it,...but maybe could be...I'm with you... slash and burn them all on your Youtube channel.... as you alone thrill me with your amazing intelligence Mister eco immo ..... from very Bongo bongo...")

Anyway one desk of the People of The Book office now running to Miss, or more  likely Mister  in that sexist pigtrough,  and telling tales about hurty words of the next desk doing the same scam.... ...
i just LOVE The Sunday Programme... as it's some  - just a little, of my most serene sublime homework... usually.

 

So there are about seven see quences on going

 But to weave them...

just a bit

HERS ten times more important than you meanies....

So, twenty years ago

" your [old man ..very..] boyfriend, said he wanted this

done that way..

you... [in your London hot pants and long leather boots on a day like today]

now say you want that,

done this way..."

Now the most comedic sketch in history

caused not by her but the so called professor, of philosophy

And stealin' chicks from Glastonbury

[god thats good i am in such a hurry none of this is ever ever aforethoughted]

my dady didnt love me so gave me away to the nanny

 opps of course mummytoo...

hence even his man management just a hullabaloo

and her the hot panted, i only felt sorry for..

even if they just MUST dominate of course....

these poor sad little English ones...

and we know why don't wee.

WEAVE IN  TO THE LIST..hers..

If..Lyndsay..

"no hang on..... hold the Reggie....!! he is more a quiet winterings affair..."

this is WHY you came to immo here...

when Britolin was actually the best in the world i know i meandered it ...

about how landsmen, call em gardeners if you will...can either be ultra loyal no matter what, given the right Lady

or the exact opposite....

if you illusionist gibber or like Hilary Folk-lore-son take an ignorant piss over my fine work via the saddest little bird ever 

Anyway we shall come to that another day...

all i care about is poetical symmetry

Almost twenty years to the half-a-year...

the biggest wanker in history - dressed up as.... 

doesn't have the manners to reply to his text ... 

so even if just like GAZAN GENOCIDALS ITS GENERALLY BEEN ABOUT 20 PALLIES TO ONE OF THE OTHERS...

sadly it has generally been about 7:1...

of the other lot, but a man started it and a man ended it..the real reason the land died.. lying about what you want your man

to Do

"we prefer it when there's a bit 'o noise..."

 ,,,now...

This really WILL be unintended fun..

Forewarned

Unplanned, on this planet and astrocycle of cosmic bullshit, or the next door.... 

" if i tame ..HER....do i get a cup at your show...? cmonnnn.... answer.... "

But that's the epilogeue or is it periep.... (even hearing several moans about their popular peri-one of late.. live.... in action gee whizz get with the program evena  few middle age ers not quite trained have admitted all a load of hot air, and rather borin'.... )  

Now what's important, is that twenny years ago it started with a man even he can hardly be called one slitherin' around in his black Range Rover..

"i sat all weekend parked by the very penthouse yurts.. 

thinkin'...how can i havetoo some of their precious...paydirt" (real bleatin' 

of a poor bloke ex Eatin... or one of them)

"and get my second home put down as a business expense..."

anyway who said 'whisper' in this one gone....

Ohh yes one who made me think of poor Nanci my favourite quietitude who faked it all her too short life she was wholesome and plenished inside and yet was so angry fuckedup bitter she died young of it

to drown out far more than a whisper....

oops wrong song google is such a deviant h

Harrisser sticking other stuff it wants to pimp in

i so need to go to Europe, to compare...

 

there we go as (SHE said! not me i wouldn't be so so cynical and hopeful there isn't one who could prove her wrong " yet another childless woman of The Roseland emotionally vandalising the community as she's nothin' else to do..")

anyway the ok "savant" black man got me, yester four fourty five..

" I lived for a while just a while as they were so ridiculously boring its daft ...anmong the pukka rastamen of the Carribes.... my religion creed and transcendental diving right is to never ever pay a penny for anything ever unless i must... 

and really one should sue her estate if she didn't piss it away with her dried up crocodile lack of tears 

but forget all other forms of entertainment as surely..if i can do THIS.... (to be cont) 

..oh well that was going too well...

start again

an "object" has failed 

yankospeaking, nothing 

now.. time to get profound. VERY...

Ultimately.

So ... where was I..twenny years ago

oh yes i wish no male readership ever as its only about what goes into the guss...

And you can't buy or switch them...

And only one man ever managed to get his wicked way into even the most toffy-nose snifftered   one...

even if the estianddad decade on version i took the trouble to put up but god knows what taste Oggle has as it's lost it...

is better, as it has the clicks in the rather well used lp 'present' and each one has a whole valley of history innit...

right now i am just treading water

roy drownin out the laughter

durin  the double backup..one hidden up in them hills.

(ohh i must do my movie of the MArch 2018 double back, up...  high in a treetop..no kiddin)

But really

 That's almost as good a summarise

of this sick land in disguise, prtendin' it's superiority

So often said, does it penetrate even the Russian fine head

"I shall simplify neigh precis in one para, your mistakenly adopted land: twenny eleven

Intouchables, rich paraplegic man, living a life of only pain

has earsex,  and goes on to breed even more...

Jojo's Me Before, five years later

same plot; and her handsome hero, even doting paid-friend carer love

off to Zurich, and we all know he's one way, of course 'drecly to heaven

no longer possible to monetise a live on story"

oops tangent...even if said so many times...

HER equal once ... in purest artful musicality

someone kept bouncin' and stompin' away. 

The English, even 2020net not-datin' me

so sniffily

younger in fact than the bouncy old thing

can only rehash,  baleful and weirdly 

even "thankfully" online a long gone equal superiority.

Rather than still be

what's not in the genes but is simply, real spirituality

 

(and i hate drum and bass, but then as with local sunglasses, of thisterweek, her of " i float above" 

some things can be ignored if whats behind them is ... artistic, actually interesting, honest, slightly slutty, truth talkin', intherapeuticalisable,  sanity) 

Right that's the end....  only the nature section, now.... the real unadventurist, version.... 

no diversion

there was never anywhere worth adventuring, to

My ohh my even if i say it myself i wish i could have profited from my second sight shamania

 i still remember that autumn avin run away from the Tw'Otters

And a load of horrid drunk pilots...

No idea what to do...

driving back to semi sanity (that evening to encounter, she who rejected

...at first, being not English later changed her finest mind) 

Having some months earlier picked up some random  second handcopy in some random record stall, sadly neglected

And the second i first heard her....  it stayed on loop for several hundred miles at a time.

But nobody else ever even mentioned her, never mind it....

Stupid artless Clash songs and

I thought my taste was always fringe... 

but all along i was just ahead of the herd

never knew she had her own Tube account

now top of her pops, 53 mil have heard

shame they didn't know about actual enlightened culture in even Serbe... ser... Titoist places..

takes years and years to realise....

how to leapfrog 

(they are the best at givin you the right kind of prod)

over who we all, formative years, were made

to Bea...

But art must also be purpose, judging

 person behind even galleries one has to go a trudgin'

authentix must be one hundred percent regardless of effnix....

Even if (its impossible talkin with ANY of the butterflies for them to even take in just a smallest segment of your 'story' and just decent-human memorise

like i saw him again the bird lad of millionaires row..

And showed his mum the rare moth seen a few days ago

" i think you should keep a journal of  this very street, 

a few degrees plus in heat..

[even if more ways than one..]  South facing cauldron of sweat and tears

mine only of joy, no fears"

she knows whom,  alone took her lad just a little under the, i assume dadless, wing 

Anyway how many times does ione have to say to the 'chem trail' or other lost and loony brigade..

"I adored every second of twenty ten once the first few weeks of worryin' only about one...

AND I WOULD HAVE BEEN EVEN HAPPIER IF LOCKDOWN AND OUT HAD CARRIED ON FOREVER.....

true stoppage time and time to cycle the lanes chattin' up all and sundry strays... 

indeed a great 'filter'.. those majority locked themselves away 

day after day

even in my actual wilderness rural region...

committing human treason

(especially on their kids, so often seen, even there)

no wish to converse, chat

"Bojo just said on even Radio one.... 

its a new law, meet someone..

in a country lane its now MANDATORY

to stop..and share a little of your real life story"

actually worked...

Anyway... the neuro Di-splurgent filtered out

and only the freebirds out and about

But who was it who broke the embargo?

Unlike Moanin' Eric (Clapped out has been God)

or even ranty Van-the-so-called-man 

" fusck this for a gameof tin soldiers

lanyard clad, gone mad

MY PEEPS...need me.... face to face, unmasked, real bouncin' WOMAN"

Gathered.... together.... in a room

despite being rather chubbily, high risk..... 

Aint Nobody.....

which one just knows....won't be on the list of BBC questions...

they can't think in even two dimensions.

Someone other had other ideas....

with an actual  mindful of life between her ears....