String is not made of hamsters, and goats do not wear string vests. I have seen the underpants of your nightmares and - of course - worn the ladies underwear of all your deepest desires.
I know how these things turn brown, brittle and crinkly at the edges… well; I think no more needs to be said about that, not now.
However, all those boats that went out, and then came back with their crews feeling rather lucky because the sea was in the same place as they'd left it the day before.
Now we can use all those lessons learnt by the lesson-learners to unstitch the seams of your favourite dressing gown.
None of this matters.
None of this is real.
When you stepped up to this and adopted your reading stance, you stepped over the edge into this new-found-land. It is another land, another world, another universe. A place where all your pickled onions are worthless. This can never be the place you think it is, especially whilst you insist on wearing those carpet slippers on your elbows.
Ah, all those magical days we spent looking down at those wonderful cleavages, and then up at those marvellously too-tight jeans. Oh, those were the days and we will never forget.
"Forget what?"
"Er… Oh, I dunno."
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