68 geeetars from Myanmar

Nearly splurted my own blood in the aisles of WHSmith’s today – those aren’t books, they’re sedatives…I challenge you to meet their deal and find a book from their Top 100 you’d pay full price for, and another you’d pay a quid for…but we’ve only got ourselves to blame, if we didn’t want it, they wouldn’t stock it…y’think?  It made me realise I should repackage my own concepts of novels.  So yes, I’m gonna do a celeb vampire love crime cookbook.  The celebrities will get killed by vampires, then Jeremy Clarkson (as the rebirth of Satan) will devise recipes from their blood with a Daily Mail level of garlic, and Bin Laden will turn it into a DIY success-analysis manual from his secret cell in easy learn Spanish. AS AN ALL IN ONE BRAIN SLAPPING BUMPER VALUE PACK, 12 GENRES FOR THE PRICE OF 1, AMMMMMAAAAZE DEAL… So I went over to Foyles, who didn’t have what I wanted either, and had to return to WHSmith’s valley of homogeny, only to then spy a Bukowski flying across their shelves, and a block of classics.

This is my maman’s old skirt worn as a dress.  It’s from Phool.  Legendary suppliers of hippy garb.  Also seen is my geeetar, bought in Myanmar – I had to do that, I’m a poet n all that…

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