so you know, my next door neighbour calls me over to her garden,
she notices i'm smoking in my own garden,
and she's like: come on over, have a beer.
                    so i go over and her garden looks like world war iii,
as i have said many times.
                            i once complimented her: i like yout ****
garden... she actually has a **** the size of a tree...
                                                         i'm not kidding.
and i'm there, figuring what to do, there's a guy in a wheelchair
yelling at his mom over the phone, there's the dog zoe,
all black with one white paw, and she's barking and trying
to lick me...
                        and then there's this portrait of nelson mandela...
framed, behind glass... and a black violin in a case
that the dog probably ****** on...
                      and i pick it up, and take out the violin and
try to play some sort of ukulele -
              by the way? i hate people who have a rigid language
system in place... it's a bit like talking to a 2 + 2 sort of people,
if you're starting from romford and you want to
get to timbuktu? some people write so rigid that, starting
from romford... you might get as far as dover...
               their tongues are a bad excuse for the rigidness equivalent
to a spine... but even their spines are crooked...
                 spineless *******... and tongueless to boot.
well... so i'm over in my neighbour's garden, and the arsonist kid
over here is trying to make a bonfire...
         oh by the time the fire-crew were summoned,
he was throwing a television, and a vacuum cleaner into the flames...
it began with a matress, and a few chairs...
          but he was trying to get the fire started, and having soaked
the matress with white spirit (turpentine) - it wouldn't light up...
so i suggested... you have any kitchen towels? or some toilet paper?
i mean, if you soak that sort of thin-"skinned" materials,
you're going to get a: houston... we don't have a problem: a.ok.
**** me, you should have seen the smoke...
you start off burning a matress and a few chairs...
   then you throw in a few plank of wood...
then a vacuum cleaner... then a television?
                                        i was really expecting a bang!
what i was doing was sitting on my ledge, perky like a crow
doing a sudoku no. 9018...
        sniffing in the fumes of what looked like the most appropriate
"metaphor" for apocalyptic society...
   and then the fire-crew came, and extinguished the bonfire,
because my other neighbour called in the brigade.
i guess this is one of those times when you feel the need to make
the firemen useful... considering there are... what? scandinavian
architectural "problems" with wooden houses?
  oh yeah, sure... concrerte's gonna burn! -
   but while i gave him the idea, of soaking a roll of toilet paper
with the turpentine spirit... and watched the whole thing foooom!
out of control?          we started a sing-along...
     *the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire...
   the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire...
    we don't need no water, let the ******* burn,
                                                     burn *******... burn.