‘The yung stag stood there wi blud on his muzzle. Prostrated before him wis the defeated challenger. They didnae fight for the right to a wuman, nor the right tae land but fae the sake of fighting’s sake. A hatred bore within both stag’s hearts exploded that misty mornin. For one had been taught to hate the other and the other tae hate the first. In truth the stags both looked the same and lived the same lives. Yet one lay deed and the other munched on his flesh. The ecstasy of hate well realised pumped thru the yung stag’s veins. He felt strong and mighty and the monarch of that moment. Whit did his violence gain besides this fleeting high? Fuck all. He sustained a wound to his left shooder and part of his earlier impressive crown was snapped aff and jammed in the deed stag’s neck. Blood soaked his soft brown coat and he looked altogether minging. The meat of the deed stag was tough and manky. The yung stag was close tae boaking so he left the quiet scene of quiet violence.’
Post 141 is upon us. It is here and now and hip and happening!!
The last time I was hip and happening was, well, never!
This may be a weird mix of ideas this week.
For some reason I was thinking of fashion and how fucked up that is. It’s an industry within an industry which has evolved incestuously. Most of the pipe-cleaners who model look as if they need a bloody good feed.
I used the line that I was bulimic but I just kept forgetting to be sick on many occasions. I think a lot of the models are anorexic and they keep forgetting to eat. They must be on some sort of dust diet.
The only reason that I thought of this was when I put on my new Bakers Whites for the first time and I realised that due to my stature I looked like an avalanche. The only good thing about this is that a big hairy dug keeps bringing me brandy. For some reason they are all called Bernard.