Friday 6:22 p.m.
The auld maw told me she'd seen Harry Houdini in the Pavilion in Mossend when she was about seven. She might have told me that before. I'm getting so old myself I can't remember now!
The skunk's just dying on me. I'd smoked half of it before I realised how strong it was. Was pretty spifflocated whilst watching a Horizon programme about the old cannybliss. Some of the best programmes I've ever seen have been done by Horizon, but this one was really a total disgrace. They've got the boy who started smoking skunk and then got them voices talking to him.
What's the matter with hearing voices, Hotboy? Don't worry, Jack. I never listen to a word you say.
So the poor basturn has got schizophrenia and stops smoking the skunk and still hears the voices. Smoking dope might make you a bit paranoid, but give us a break!
Then they had the feckless basturn whose life was ruined by skunk because he smoked ten joints a day and couldn't be bothered getting off his arse to do anything. This reminds me of Harold MacMillan's response to the boy who was going on about the evils of unemployment. Harold, being a posh basturn, said there was nothing the matter with not having a job. Most of his friends had never done a day's work in their lives. Give me unemployment and a steady supply of skunk and I'll write a novel a year no bother.
For the millionaire who is reading this and didn't fancy the boxing mitts for a hundred grand, how's about this one then? Just give me £10,000 a year and a steady supply of skunk and we'll go fifty fifty on any proceeds from the novel a year. But you get bugger all of the proceeds from the video of my floating about, which will happen sometime after I get a cable for my mobile phone thing.
Due to being constantly skunked out of my box, I was unable to get off my arse to do anything of course. But yesterday as the skunk was dying I went out for my six mile run. Really slow but most reassuring. I'm going for a long cycle with a young person tomorrow to demonstrate that smoking dope all my life has done me no harm, apart from completely funging up my lungs, and then there's the twitch, and the tremors, but apart from that ....!
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10 comments:
I say!
Is that dagga? You may be interested in this http://www.druglibrary.org/schaffer/hemp/history/first12000/7.htm
MM III
We all find our way through hell eventually. I did speed when I was young, now I drink coffee.
Never got into the cannybliss, I'm allergic to smoke and the one time I tried it I ended up in hospital. Trying not to explain why I couldn't breath with my mom in the room.
The doc wasn't fooled and gave me some really nasty treatment.
If I didn't have the voices in my head, who'd talk to me? I name my sewing machines so I can walk around talking out loud to nobody.
I need spring to arrive, I am so done with winter.
Mingin'!: Could be dagga. Dearie me!
Marie: That doctor was dead right. Anyway, what suits? Hotboy
I say!
I was telling myself the other day that I reckon I'm the only person around here who doesn't have voices in my head.
MM III
It must be disconcerting when one has fewer brain cells left than one's old dear.
How postmodern to watch the skunk doco while skunked. You'll get a booker yet.
How could you tell if the six mile run was really slow or just seemed it?
Albert? I could tell the run was slow by looking at the clock afterwards. Also, I cancelled the bike run at nine this morning due to the sleet and snow. But now (nearly noon) it's quite nice.
I say!
Due to the dire situation in Jamaica, I have wired my immediate availability for England opening bat, number 3, number 5, allrounder, and third umpire. My only condition is that the drinks rules are relaxed a mite during the tea interval.
MM III
Mingin'! Anybody can play yon creekit! I'd like a chance at whacking the ball over the stands myself. Who do you have to pay? Hotboy
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