Send me ____________ through my E-mail at the footy(footer // bri'ish)

That's not necessarily a joke there... But somebody could fill in the gaps of where my wordplay falls down, and make a joke about how overzealous or underzealous my ID is. (In terms of psychology, set about by a man who ideally wants close family members to admit they'd like to fuck eachother.)

Life's a bunt-cake, and there's something transcendent about realising how much of a hole you are. A void that is waiting to be filled. And... that's not to say I've been fucking a bunt-cake. It's hard-graft being isolated. Not as hard as I'd find it to do a skin-graft, however... So I'm probably within realistic realms of working, luckily.

Back again, at no cost to yourselves. Merely the parts that seem burdonsome and depressing. Ent nuffin in loife free, ye Turnip.

Thanks for listening, if you did. 'Write in'

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"I never thought to say this originally, because I wouldn't like to lose myself in a Social-Vacuum-Esque Hellscape.
Purely if you think I have something to be understood, or anything of value...
Then, and, only then.
Be a Fan.
I'm opening up the idea of conversational ramblings. I think I'm naturally born reactionary, but instilled within silence. Don't be silent...? I'm a rational Human-Rights advocate, and I create my own kindness adverse to systems of Politics, wherever possible. However I'm Just not a fan of Tories. Irony, however... makes me look at Hugh Dennis differently. Like a Human. Not a Toffee. Or John Cleese. Or countless other wealthy Artists I, "couldn't possibly", relate to."
{Poddy e-mail address coming soon.}