Hut Management!

Saturday 12:10 a.m.
I was speaking to some rich folk tonight. I was talking about bartering. Like, I think the folk who can do stuff should do it, and barter it. So I showed them the photies of the hut and said I could exchange fantastic amounts of praying, petitionary praying, if they would just use their bourgeois DIY skills to fix the hut. So that I wouldn't have to be bothered.

William the Conqueror established numerous monasteries in England so that the monks could pray for him and help him get over the slight problem he had with god due to being responsible for killing lots of folk.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for me and my wee dog!

So the wee fat baldy guy was speaking to the emperor. Will I gain lots of merit from setting up all these monasteries and whatnot? No, says the wee fat baldy guy. Nope. No. No points. Nil points.

Somebody's going to have to fix the hut! So I should ask St Francis about this. St Francis, says I, what do you think of the hut? He says it is far too celestial this hut. And what's the matter with rats running over you at night? So I asked Milarepa. A hut, says he! What do you need a hut for?

But I have some kind of a hut. Properly qualified members of the working class should come, spontaneously, and fix the hut.

If I have to fix the hut, I will have to learn to do stuff, which I hate, and also I know that other folk are much better and more suited to doing this than moi. So I will barter it.

How many hours of meditation do you think it would take to repay someone fixing your hut, Hotboy? Well, Jack, the flatheids are all funged anyway. Since there is no merit to give, I'll meditate for a minute. What was the other thing the wee fat baldy guy said, Hotboy? He said fung off the lot of yous! I'm going to go and sit in my hut. I will do this. I will do this. I have six week's holidays coming up at the start of July. Even if it means that I have to cry and cry and cry, I will sit in the fung hut this summer. So I will!