even if i blew it's fuse long ago
Dishin' up another lovely unknown from that REAL summer, likely just cos i rit '1976'
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
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"
