I need no thing.
Various things on the other site...
Two decades of dreary gentleness...
notepad normally far more nice neat Paperchasey handwriting
Not one of them Lowlanders and their whole Industry ( ehh define a 'service economy' even if myself i wish no economy being an expert of economics as i am, and know its all artificial and Ruskie Roulette, just redistribute the grub a bit more fairly: making money from other humans by conning them with vats of snake oil or 30 quid haircuts, and thats just the boys... the ugliest tattoos in history, conning them that Lisa's 'sensory centre' filled with chemical aromas as 'therapy'... is any substitute for a good dose of real country smells " "esti ... careful.... theres one in the bed somewhere i can smell it - the sweet smell of ferret on the loose leaving her little tidy piles of poo on the go ... now which of the so intelligently designed territorial corners is it today..?")
Anyway if you REALLY are a battleaxe you have to give away EVERYthing...
No half way houses to stock up on Brighton Rock..
You even have to give away your 'identity'...
Mine being for so many years that humour is ok but likely achieves nothing so don't waste your time 'awaking' up and immediately " womb rewilding [service]" comes into my sick mind (c the Roches proper writers unlike 1 1/2 dimensional Northern angry young men)
Which i could be richer than Mister Grott if it got out that it is available as a special service only at the elite
retreats
and that just sprung up from nowhere
or maybe it is from somewhere
its impossible to know. BUT ITS NOT ME
Thus one gives away ones actual 'identity'
Be not me
The one service that they dare not actually sell.
which is of course the cure
To that which they darent truly see
