Being discovered by a scab class traitor who needed the reward to eat, he is captured and subjected to United Nations reportable incidents of the kind which make ITV Television reporters come in their pants.
The trucks rumbled me—woke me—up to pain and blackness, they hadn’t put my eyes out please? Please gods no, I’m too stupid to learn braille now. I can’t breathe, oh gods oh gods, oh its a hood, I’ve still got my eyes.
Whereis our erstwhile hero rediscovers one of his core erotic experiences, being that of a voyeur and recontextualiser of social situations.
I am not a wallflower. Rather, I do not esteem my fellow man (no nor woman neither though by your grins I call tell you think so) sufficiently to put the moves on them. That’s right, almost none of your are good enough for me. None of you are even good enough for me to treat you poorly while seducing you. I made this realisation sitting cross legged on a rough Malaysian exported carpet of North African islamic origin, behind the bales of unthreshred rice, in mama-ji’s hut. (more…)
