I'm not entirely sure what I'm looking at.
All it’s really done though, is to have compromised their ability to understand how real people work, so that their attempts to engage with them now are executed with the heavy-handed caprice of a fairy tale king.
I remember, he was wearing a casual suit with those carrot-leg trousers that are deliberately too small and stop on your ankles. They make men of a certain age look like a hard-boiled egg on a cocktail stick.
could God make a bowl of porridge that is too large for Her to eat?
... you know, like when you can’t round off a text exchange, or get flummoxed by an aggressive idiot in an unwanted conversation. Not so much esprit d'escalier, as esprit de rentré dans la maison et assis à la table de la cuisine.
Big Eggo was one of us, but he spoiled himself by too often behaving like the Germans on It’s a Knockout.
Bored, with no traction for either of us in our bad poetry competition, Keith and I have taken to setting each other crosswords. Have a go at mine below. The first correct answer received at the contact-me email (below? - somewhere nearabouts) will be sent a gift commensurate with one of the answers, whether they … Continue reading 8th Sept – It’s only words and words are all I have, to take your heart away.
Not bad enough to be so bad it's good; not good enough to be bad.
I've had a preview of his (he's in the revision stage now) and I was disheartened to see that he has latched on to the same awful trope of the bad poem as me - the pun. He has based his rhyme around craic and crack. I must say, it's promisingly bad.
I propose to make the new economy out of Formica to put it at the forefront of the robust, easy to clean, exterior of the global marketplace.
I have been blessed with a good sense of humour Keith, so for the times I’ve laughed, I will give my life one out of ten.
Dickie White's Diary 