48 hours without so much as a rum: oh Danger lurks in the recesses of my fur

Stretch here and not very there lately

"the Picnic" Oh lah-di-fucking-dah

I haven’t heard the clinkle of ice-cubes in two days. Horror movies begin like this right? Too much perspective. A week to that festival and I must conserve my liver. It is imperative that I arrive healthy for damage is inevitable. My trusty aid Dr Ballantine Baines, when not experimenting on leeches or freezing singer-songwriters, drinks enough Pimms to ruin a garden fete. I must prepare. Here goes:

High protein diet

Excercise the munki

get some money for the boyscouts

cheapen the expression “the picnic” so people will stop saying it

learn “A song for Ireland”

torture Jack Whitehall and Russell Howard in the name of Christ

Invoke Satan

Revoke Satan

Give Satan Crosaire puzzles to amuse, while Stretch figure out how to revoke Satan

Learn Scottish

Buy Ché 1 on dvd, but not Ché 2 (due to lack of depth of field)

Mind how you go

Don’t meet yourself coming back in

rest rest rest

Aaargh… am drawn to and repelled by Lou Reed. Is there any hope for this munki? If only he had just disappeared after the Velvets, things would have been awwwwlrite

Is there an id. Id there?

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