"it's such an unfair advantage working in security, joke of a job, or rather: there are too many people in this industry: mostly women, who 'think' they can appease a restless drunk, man, who they have no coordinates for in terms of the stressors of nihilism: if religion was still alive: but god is alive while religion is dead... if these women knew that simply popping out a golden doughnut of a bambino: we have it harsh not that it matters but we don't have the luxury of fashion and make-up... say that to someone obsessed with latex, the Marvel comic universe... Rod Stewart's train-set... and then this ****** antics... yachts galore... but a woman? pops out a baby and hey presto! cul de sac of existentialism sort of become a tempus per se: agreed... there's no locus ad hoc: no space for this... so the child is a discomfort a 'discomfort'... but i'm not such a bad drunkard... i don't get jealous, i just tease my wuvva bovva when she tells me that she has courtesans in her vicinity of that juicy *** of a peach... but take religion away from man and replace that with the Coliseum: replace the Church with the Coliseum and then spike his ingestion of: moderation of wine: excess that with beer... don't give him a purpose: disorientate him with sport: doubly so! make him twice the unappreciative leech on what sport is: blind-side him with football fanaticism: so that he can't appreciate athletics and mathematics: the two mothers looking for a third: perfect thirst for melancholy and knowledge: namely philosophy: perhaps it's only a struggle in this tongue, this English: zunge... this lack of thirst for language bagging some Stanley 'satan' Shakespearean itch: that night when lying in bed and i felt a creepy-crawli rummaging into my skin to get at my nymph-nodes... now i feel my skin itching... and only yesterday... the chances of cycling and catching a ******* insect in my eye... eye not yet watery but still blistered... maybe this freak-ah-zoyd reclining should stop just watching people video games: at least she might not be prone to doing **** like: selling bathtub water for the desperate or maybe i'm also one of them: i'm pretty sure that if i spread enough words into the stream of connectivity i'd get away with prying open the gimmick: bagged me a Puerto Rican ****... a Puerto Rican **** and i don't feel inclined to explore sexuality most extreme in ****... i like the vanilla tasting her swallow... but then again i have my three-switch flick of the index prompt regarding one finger in her mouth and another in her ****: but boys being boys it wasn't enough that i was envied for courting a Russian girl: now i challenged the spectrum and went the other way all the way to H'america..."

it's sports commentary:
i listen in on all those former footballers turned
sport pundits and
jeez: ****** as General:
not the competent Erwin Rommel...
there's the genius and there's the artistic
turned dictator: flop...
sports commentary concerning football
is... ******* boring:
maybe that's why the fans are so vocal...
but if you just listen to the commentary
surrounding the Tour de France:
well: it's linear: the race:
unlike F1... very much unlike Formula Uno:
one...
ah! that's what i forgot!
to scribble in some katakana!
since N is so special a vowel in Yap:

オンエ   (not one: oh-née:
        i.e. not one or won)
the plural of feminine: those women...
different in the masculine
realm replacing one letter:

      オンイ... oh-knee...
no... wait... that's exactly the same: even with
the surd inclusion to morph meaning
of the same sound...
oh-n'eh: yes yes... oh-
  no... wait... that's right!
what was i thinking?!

        probably something about becoming blind
in one eye: which one? the ! or the ? eye?
and ears likewise: deaf like
that's a monstrous punctuation adventure
a colon in one ear
a semi-colon out the other...

in the plural then: AXIS... summon the *******
i've worked with enough drunkards
that i understand an unfair advantage
when i see one:
i summoned up bulking and bulging
i put on an extra kilogram or so
so i look more obnoxiously formidable like
i'm waiting for the action doing
response but all i see it people
wasting my time
i want to be traumatized like most people
become when doing this job
but all i get it politeness and maybe
i'm just a big smooch:
the way she described other males
trying to chirp her up all lavender and honey
i didn't get disorientated
i just told her: it's coming up to 4am
and i'm still thinking about tomorrow's
weather and the heatwave receding
and your daughter is eating dry pasta
and that's almost like me clinging
to exercising my bite and gnash
on my own teeth and other instruments
of torture until bone bites bone
and a new geology is born from the chips
and my grinning chipped teeth:

onesies i think "they" call them...
don't know: bad grammar is a disgrace when
so made into fetish for bad politics
like chess are people or people
are chess and this is a nightmare circus
but fair enough:
if that eases the strain on god's antics
in the omni-verse of -potency etc
then i too think Yo needs...

it looks so terrible for anyone who's either
schizophrenic or bilingual,
this whole notion of: "gender neutral pronouns":
perhaps it's an English-thing:
with its already in situ:
gender neutral nouns...
which makes no sense to summon
the idea, the whisper: but wow! so vocal:
"gender neutral pronouns":
the ******* nouns are gender neutral!
learn! another! *******! zunge!
in other languages there's no confusion:
nouns are gender exclusive!
there's some inkling into this reality with
calling the Moon a boy and the Sun a girl:
or in the ancient script calling
Latin Moon girl and Latin Sun boy...
but come on: Britain: the Afghanistan of
the ancient world: before the Saxons conquered
this respite for conquest:
these Irish, Welsh and Scots...
don't bother me when i'm still residing in Essex...
before the Germanic influence:
the devolved people pushed into a now
impeding homogeneity of Pseudo-Babylon...
with all the rest of the people of the world
making their claim to
bad weather and even worse diet!
well **** me! might as well sell them ****
and make them feel like twice the overlords
and conquerors with their breeding patterns
and state-dependence:
me? i'm ******* off to Hawaii... leave you to it...
i'm beyond one ounce of giving a toss:
i found myself a girl i can escape pornographic
daydreaming:
on a hunch: well yeah:
the day i brought her present to the brothel:
a ****-ring...
the 20 year didn't know what i was doing
but neither did she know what was what is
a ******* before the advent of the monotheistic
mutilation by the Arab-Hebrews...
oh yeah, yeah: i'd get circumcised (if i could,
but i can't but if i could: but i can't
since i have a caduceaus of veins around my skin
on my **** so: bleeding gums murphy)...
circumcision should only be permitted
as a prenup agreement...
only then: not right off the bat hey ** let's go!
if i get married then yeah:
guillotine my *******...
but beyond that you ******* barbaric sods: ha ha...

it's still bad grammar...
gender, neutral, pronouns...
as in: "neutrality" of enveloping the singular with
the plural so that he is disguised as they
and she a them: wow! applause! stupendous
******* applause!
i'm having to listen to the DYSLEXIC goblins!
the fury and the agony of: supposing
the priestly-caste became limp-**** energy
and people became over-ambitious in their
first: thirst: ambition for scribble scribble scribble:
but then the scribble scribble scribble
comes back and you begin to wonder:
all that... for this?!

it's not even bothersome what sport you watch:
but football these days has the most
terrible of commentaries...
you switch off listening to it
and appreciate the game:
with the exception of, say: John Motson...
Jonathan Pearce... yeah...
but beside that: ex-footballers...
one exception...
two...
            Ian Wright is not a commentator:
he's a pundit...
as is Roy Keane....
             Alan Shearer... Ally McCoist...
legend...
                  Martin Keown: measured, reserved...
sober(?)...
             Tour de France commentary is
different: you're not supposed to be watching
the race, well: you are: you're not...
regardless:
i don't see a bunch of women raising arms
at length to salute and say:
we also want to be the brides and girdles
of the Tour! give us some!

equal pay: but i really want women to play
5 sets in tennis!
i want to get my money's worth!
if women are to be paid equal as men
in a sport:
they should at least play to a 3 set winner in
the grand slams... surely... no?
why are they getting paid to play a maximum
of 3 sets while men have to grind out
a 5 setter?
doesn't seem fair:
but we're only talking about a pedantic minority
of hard-core feminist-nazis to begin with
so i'm not really bothered about outcomes
of my spontaneous verbiage...

                  but if you don't attract a massive
crowd to watch your matches...
with the exception of the national team
then i really don't understand
how all these women think they can be
****-boys and not look ugly
while we know all the ****-boys
are Peter Pans and that's really not something
you aspire to
since you know they're only ******* the gullible
ones and that's an intellectual sub-par
of what's talked about outside the bedroom:

i didn't ask whether you can cook and clean...
then there you go with:
but i'll earn as much as you and get a maid...
seriously?!
so all for me but none for you
so there's no grand feminist solidarity
you'd rather have another woman do your chores
while you compete for my... responsibilities
and strains:
i didn't say: can you cook and clean:
i do that myself... i was just asking:
would you mind cooking and cleaning: with me:
but there you go all defensive:
but i'm not doing either:
regardless:
regardless of what?
butchering a poor animal twice by
overcooking the beef till it's dry and ugh and
i need blood and ju and goo:

no wonder then that i had to resort
to looking for a woman outside of England:
if not in Russia then in America...
well: Polynesia... South America:
not America-as-Culture as such...
somewhere "spicy": somewhere fidgety...
fiddly... jeez this itch...
i really do think i have a parasite crawling
under my skin: sometimes it pops like an itch
in my ear sometimes
on my nose...

it's still a case of bad grammar:
gender, *******, neutral, ******* pronouns...
it's bad... so so bad...
someone ought to cut off the dyslexic delusion
of prowess: give them some sweets:
a sugar rush and a motorcycle to speed
on and crash into a jargon busting dumpster
of a truck: re-orientate them with
clever tricks like:
only two experiences can compensate getting
a ******* as good as...
     getting a haircut in all that ******* Ottoman
experience and...
seeing a dentist: but that's not ethnicity related
like going to a Turkish barber:
any dentist will do:
shoving his latex GIMP
           hands into your mouth while you're gagging
and saying: i might just about to cry
from all that inverted ***: my-tho-logy?
    structure: that's mý-tho-logy:
when writing the schematic: it's truly there:
it's not my: aye: eye...
     it's a mýthology: hence no ý in -logy:
since that's: logically: -ee... e e... e... e... e... e...

i knew you were trouble: Taylor does DUB STEP...
Taylor does DUB STEP... drops the BASS...
softcore dub step:
i remember there was that musical movement
once circa 2007...
then died the quickest death imaginable...

that sporting events have replaced:
well what's the problem with religion is the carousel
of repeating familiarity
and perhaps people just want drama
drama that can be contained and if religion was no
escapism:
but it was escapism for people, formerly:
then religion can't satiate the problems of modern man
god is alive and well
in the mental asylum
while religion is dead or at least morphing:
personally i find i couldn't find any satisfaction
with religion
even as much as the Muslims want to make
their intricate prayer antics enticing with remnants
of mysticism
i couldn't possible lubricate my mouth
on the mantras that leave the Urdu speaking
confusion a half-baked Arabic...
  
                          since... maybe there's a living through
language: LINGUA PER SE
re-orientating itself:
something out of my power...
              maybe language is: primarily an etymology
instead of history
perhaps there's a secret layer of language
that balances out all the newly discovered
graffiti...
                            and i'm just here for the thrill
of: peacock: how can i best attire myself
in the right sort of feathers of words...
                                     which might make her O and A
and Ooh: in the whirlwind of the YHWH
with the two hatches as vowel catchers in sighs
and instigators of laughs: balancing act of Ah in Ha... ha.

p.s. so in the end, my "unfaithfulness":
non-committal...
i thought: can i be as or at least so: psychopathic
and escape the sanctity of ****** exclusiveness?
turns out no...
the ****-ring confused the young *******
as did the *******...
in the end i ended up paying her £120 for an hour
whereby i massaged her
and she cuddled to me like a daughter
and that's when i decided that:
all the lessons of the brothel have been learned...
there's no need for me to go back...
i think it was always a language barrier for me...
i think that language is: but especially is:
if you find your type:
voluptuous... volume: voluptuous...
              if you can find your type and become:
TYPO... strange parallels:
an honest monetary exchange: once, only once
since March... and... absolutely... nothing...
to engage a psychology with:
too many ******* swans in my head
and matrimony...

                          a ******-pathology:
or rather a pathology of *** post the ****** revolution
in that:
it takes great strain and mental gymnastics
to go ahead with frivolous and anti-stereotypical
"awakening" casualness of ***
in the realm of the psychopath:
maybe that's why i did overcome that aspect
of ***
and did manage multiple ****** partners
and did manage to persuade some to perform
unprotected *** and that's a big thing
since in the brothel the onion and peel of
skin of extra financing the experience
but then a return to a comfort of the lived
rather than dying through experience
and how naturally there'a a lock on who you
experience either KINK or VANILLA with
and even in the realm of VANILLA
the KINK comes out: out of its own unconscious
rota of: can't hide forever...
and that's better than all the false sense of
the rewarding self: instead it's a self-punishment
with that promise of causal *** that's:
so... ******* monstrous i don't know why
**** ideology died
while this 1960s ****** revolution still lingers
like a bad taste absinthe and Marxism:
but **** ideology is dead
while there's the real human question
of sincerity when it comes to such topics
as Euthanasia and being unable to care / afford
demented relatives...
this liberal-anti-liberal monstrosity is just:
icky...
                                         and this is coming from
a place of "love": like:
why were only the Slavic people inclined to
test out Marxism to the fullest extent
(while door-mouse Chinese faked it until they
made it...)
        but at least there were a people who tested
the theory thoroughly and there's knowledge
of: Marxism would work well in current Syria:
like it did in Poland:
as a way of: Marxism in place under special
circumstances of: invaded by and distraught by:
at least 2 foreign powers...
and a special time period like half a century...
great undercurrent of cultural growth:
no foreign investment: F.D.R's isolationism like
that of Japan: a fail-safe mechanism...
nothing capitalistic: permanent...

                  but **** me that was the last time
i paid for an hour whereby i ended up
massaging a *******: gremlin ergonomics of
pseudo-economic achievements of earning: spending.