Barnsley driver, originally uploaded by Alex Veitch.

In Barnsley, dogs don’t walk.

I spent yesterday lunchtime sat on a corpse, eating a period preserved in vinegar.

Its surprising that, in the time I’ve worked around the corner from the University-owned churchyard in the city of [this place], I’d not before used it as somewhere to sit. Students and staff alike were out in force, and the inhabitants had plenty of company for once. My only slight disapointment was the lack of certainty that the sandwich – purchased because the rather fine Japanese food stall had been towed away – contained free range egg mayo.

To me
To you
To me

And so on, for maybe a minute of entertainment.

I can imagine the discussion between God and the Devil over who should have the souls of the Chuckle Brothers.

To me.
To you.
To me.

And so on, until eternity is over.

Why are people so against TV?

Seriously. I know there’s a lot of crap on there, but it seems that people are happy to knock TV as being worthless, per se, where they don’t make the same generalisations about other media – films, poems, writing, and the like. Its something that has interested me for a while, and generally, I think, reflects on the part of the opinionator a lack of clear thinking. TV as a whole is no more worthless than any kind of art or story telling form.

It says save as draft. Procrastinatory procrastination, then, as not even a blog for distraction needs to be seen.

Would you have your legs (or, I suppose, your arms) cut off for a million pounds? I only ask, because on the national lottery programme (on the idiot box) they asked if you were to be the next half-millionaire. I assume they mean you. I can’t afford to lose my legs. How would I run away?