We went to the all-human circus and the best thing there was the man who wore loads of hats.
I tried to post this yesterday but the bottom bit got cut off, which was unbearable, so I deleted it and now I can't remember what else I had to say, but:
My friends had a show and asked me to write about it so I did.

Other Operators 1

Twice now some people I've never met have printed something I've written together with other things other people I've never met have written or drawn and distributed it to other people I've never met. I haven't thanked them for this yet, because I'm a fucking monster. And monsters get scared of confronting reality. Ask anyone (who's a monster). They're at Darklane Quarterly and also some of them I've been led to believe sometimes do stuff with words on the first Wednesday of every month at The Thunderbolt in Totterdown, which is an area of Bristol very close to Temple Meads, which is the train station, which is what people used to call the railway station until that began to sound silly, which is a shame but we're not going to fucking cry about it are we? Like they do in the Letters page of the fucking Guardian?

Guarantee The Consistent Freshness

Samuel Beckett's face is advertising whiskey. Maybe it's not his face. It definitely looks like his face. Drink yourself clever, it seems to be saying. The actual slogan is something else. Something about a bard. Would you really call him a bard though? Maybe it's a coincidental face. A lot of old wiry white men end up looking similar. But it's got the same glasses and hair. It doesn't say his name. It's like you're supposed to see it and think wow the literary lookalikes agency is winning some major contracts, and then go and get yourself a bottle and hasten your own death. If a smart ghost endorsed it then if I drink it I'll become one of those fussy-tongued bon-vivants I've heard so much about. Not just a guy who enjoys a special offer like when they were hard-pushing Jameson's. He's come back from the dead to tell me about a liquid. He wouldn't do that if it wasn't good. It's a strange niche to go for. But it makes sense that it's only up at the bus stops.

Comprehensive Information Really Good

We ate elaborate breakfasts and walked round looking at stuff. Some of it was art and some of it was architecture and some of it was peril and one bit of it was a blob in a jar. It used to be alive. I think it had a mouth. There were very many other things in jars and we were hungover.

Inexpensive Holiday In Other People's Enthusiasm

Impossible not to think of that Sex Pistols song when you're in front of the Berlin wall. It's very tall and close and forms an impression in your mind and neck. There are many murals or one big mural, and signs asking you not to write anything on anything and a lot of writing on everything, thoughtful things like fuck yeah and woohoo and security round these parts is not what it used to be.

Shrubs For The Small Formal Border

An old man said you know things used to be different round here, it wasn't like it is now and it isn't like it was then, back then we had an unalterable allowance of things and the differences between these things were very carefully monitored by scrupulous hawks and if the differences became too great we had to dig a big hole and put the differentest things in it until the children stopped crying which is why them hills are so big. Similarities were very rarely mentioned, it was differences we cared about and if there weren't any we'd make some up using a calculator if necessary and let me tell you it's awful the way this country's being handed over to the
It was a dreary monologue that needn't be repeated.