The month of February has been characterized by great displays of sheer strength. Last Saturday was perhaps the third weekend on the trot where I slept little, laughed hard and woke up on a Monday without wanting to leap off the roof of our flat. This has nowt to do with approaching the weekend with anything resembling moderation and everything to do with pushing so hard that the vibe is off the cliff. What would Kevin Rowland do? He'd burn it down.
Friday eve was spent enjoying a large helping of offally cuisine. I've never dined on the bits of meat that Macdonald's usually throw away. But funnily enough, at My Old Place, they were delicious. Even the intestine was lovely until it cooled and then carried the strong, earthy taste of pure, unadulterated shit. The first potential skat scene of the weekend.
The next day we took a trip to London zoo. Props to the anteater, the aardvark and the gorilla for daring to eat its own shit with such unadulterated glee. I have never seen anything quite like it.
A deadly, yet retiring snake. Who would have thought...
Spitty flex
Glitter flex
Jedward
Piranhas on the lose
Long necked vibes
He wasn't there. Lying bastards
