FOURLEGS COMMUNIQUE : 3 : Criminal Running

– Look at them all out there sweating like bitches in heat. When was the last time you ran anywhere? When did you stop running up the stairs just for the sake, for the joy of getting *there* quicker. You only run now when being chased. Running away from someone or something? Yes we’ve all felt that cool sweat of escape but as old Michael Finnegan might have suggested- Begin again. I am outlawing criminal running for it is no misdeed to break into a jog without a physical destination. Next time you ascend a staircase try sprinting up to the top just *because.* Well, you’ll be amazed at the results.

– I just realised I have never been to a fancy dress party. Although you wouldn’t have known as I’ve decided I would’ve gone in disguise. There *is* a difference.

– Name droppings are as shit as Rabbit droppings. Or so the Queen tells me.

– Fucking crust punks don’t fucking care about anything at all, all they fucking care about is fucking fucking.

– These Governments abhor families passing on their values to their young and their sly campaign to prevent this has been as real as the open one claiming to ‘protect’ the young from the supposedly pernicious perils of passive smoking. If a white lie is plain packaged does that make it alright?

– First Great Wankers trains are so ineffective they stand still three hours late on the straight track. Indicating. Bring them into public ownership and re-open the rural lines.

– Put me down. On the bill. I must play, I must headline my own funeral.

– From the kind to the unkind you are my kind, Mankind. Man I feel a fool running fingertips along these pages.

– Hand advice- finger tips- sniff after reading. There are worse habits than biting your nails till you bleed. It does hurt though.

– Just texted that bird saying I was coming. Spelt c-u-m. In-a-text- intertextuality. It’s not subtext, it’s *in* the text. Because she’s fit innit. Innit? Let the in see the it? The *it* will be in and you will certainly be *in* it. For shame for shame for shame.

– Money has become the way into peoples pants so much I often wonder why when extracting money from the bank we are not offered a choice of how to carry the notes away. Boxers or briefcase? Doggy bag indeed.

– Somebody once told me life is merely a damn collection of memories. I think. I don’t know, I forget.

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