Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Noel’s Night by Noel Fielding
worked on my art book today with bongo brown who is a visual wizard. There was also a spanish bull in the mix and a sausage sandwich. i think the bull was famous at some point although he was well balanced and not aloof in anyway. cant say the same for the sausage sandwich though. He was up his own arse. And he told a really long story that didnt really go anywhere. dick head. but he thought it was the best story ever and started rolling about the desk making a grunting sound. i could tell Dave and the bull were both equally disgusted and rightly so. That sausage was unbearable. i felt bad for the sausage in the end because he had no social skills and it turned out that he his wife had been sleeping around. although to be fair to her if he tells stories like that and makes that grunting noise all the time its not surprising.
i always feel sorry for outsiders i cant help it so i offered to go camping with him in europe. Nightmare. Why did i do that? i hate camping and that noise he makes goes right through me. Disaster. @Jimmylazers can verify the whole story. he witnessed it all but when i offered to go camping he said he was busy which was a total lie. I feel in my heart the sausage new this though. I think I saw him crossing out Daves number from his phone book. in permanent marker. Anyway to cut a long story short I turn up at the sausages penthouse flat with my ground sheet and him and @jimmylazers have already left. So now i have to turn my chariot around and persuade my unicorns to take me back home. But they already had another job booked in. So not only have i been double crossed by the sausage I am walking home with a ground sheet over my head. I look like a small plastic hill. And @jimmylazers and the sausage are in the south of france in a two man tent. living the dream.
worse was to come I got back to mine and the Bull was there drunk trying on my clothes. this is like a nightmare. hes stretched most of my good stuff. The stuff I keep for night times. Dry cleaning only stuff. He’s in a track suit now doing shots. He’s so wide its ridiculous. He is dancing around the bedroom with electrical appliances hanging off him. all caught round his legs. And my best hat hanging from one of his horns. Its bent out of shape. I will have to steam press that tomorrow. I am standing directly on the bulls head now as he crashes about the kitchen looking for more southern comfort. He is so drunk he is shouting to the bedroom for me to come and help him and I am standing on his head. He’s out of control. Well if you cant beat them join them.
The guy from next door has heard all the noise and is banging on my door. Gonna send the bull out to answer the door dressed as me. Ha Ha Ha
Oh no the bull is bringing the guy from next door in. Unbelievable its not the guy from next door its the sausage. Wearing a pancake. Hes got a crepe poncho on and is throwing playing cards everywhere. @jimmylazers is here as well dressed as the pope. This is not how I saw my evening panning out. Boom for real. me standing on a drunk bulls head whilst a sausage in a pancake overcoat pelts @jimmylazers dressed as the pope with playing cards. Ive got my French Nan staying with me as well. And my uncle Trevor who puts meat in the washing machine. Anyway hope you guys are having a good night x Bye x
i always feel sorry for outsiders i cant help it so i offered to go camping with him in europe. Nightmare. Why did i do that? i hate camping and that noise he makes goes right through me. Disaster. @Jimmylazers can verify the whole story. he witnessed it all but when i offered to go camping he said he was busy which was a total lie. I feel in my heart the sausage new this though. I think I saw him crossing out Daves number from his phone book. in permanent marker. Anyway to cut a long story short I turn up at the sausages penthouse flat with my ground sheet and him and @jimmylazers have already left. So now i have to turn my chariot around and persuade my unicorns to take me back home. But they already had another job booked in. So not only have i been double crossed by the sausage I am walking home with a ground sheet over my head. I look like a small plastic hill. And @jimmylazers and the sausage are in the south of france in a two man tent. living the dream.
worse was to come I got back to mine and the Bull was there drunk trying on my clothes. this is like a nightmare. hes stretched most of my good stuff. The stuff I keep for night times. Dry cleaning only stuff. He’s in a track suit now doing shots. He’s so wide its ridiculous. He is dancing around the bedroom with electrical appliances hanging off him. all caught round his legs. And my best hat hanging from one of his horns. Its bent out of shape. I will have to steam press that tomorrow. I am standing directly on the bulls head now as he crashes about the kitchen looking for more southern comfort. He is so drunk he is shouting to the bedroom for me to come and help him and I am standing on his head. He’s out of control. Well if you cant beat them join them.
The guy from next door has heard all the noise and is banging on my door. Gonna send the bull out to answer the door dressed as me. Ha Ha Ha
Oh no the bull is bringing the guy from next door in. Unbelievable its not the guy from next door its the sausage. Wearing a pancake. Hes got a crepe poncho on and is throwing playing cards everywhere. @jimmylazers is here as well dressed as the pope. This is not how I saw my evening panning out. Boom for real. me standing on a drunk bulls head whilst a sausage in a pancake overcoat pelts @jimmylazers dressed as the pope with playing cards. Ive got my French Nan staying with me as well. And my uncle Trevor who puts meat in the washing machine. Anyway hope you guys are having a good night x Bye x
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Petit Tailleur
Léa Seydoux is so pretty. I think she looks a little like my cousin Mijanou. Mina, I hope you read this!
Old Mrs. Karafilis
The Greek grandmother of Demo Karafilis, one of the neighborhood boys. She survived the Turkish massacre of her village as a young woman and hid in a cave for a month eating olive pits. She now spends her days in the semi-darkness of the Karafilis basement, remembering Asia Minor. She waits to die, uninterested in all self-important suburban dramas except for the plight of the Lisbon sisters, which saddens her but does not seem to surprise her. The boys suspect that she and the girls secretly communicate, sharing the same deep knowledge of the world's pain and reading the same signs of tragedy in the clouds.
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