First we had grow your own and now it’s kill it yourself.
We had paint your own pictures then it was draw your own blood.
Write your own books then Read your own palm.
We used to make love now it’s ensure your own climax
We used to talk to each other Now we message our others We used to share bedrooms Now we are alone with just Zoom We used to have fantasies now we have pornography We didn’t see our own vulvas Now we get plastic surgery so they look good for anonymous strangers.
If we do everything ourselves and nothing for each other where will that lead to in the end?
Annie went onto Mary’s patio at 10 am and began to water her many tubs.The watering can was filled with rain water though the weather was now a little drier.
Emile ran behind her admiring her tight black jeans from Calvin Klein and her red blouse from Bowlands of Wrath.
Suddenly the bedroom window opened and Mary leaned out. Hi Annie,I have not gone away after all. Why not? asked her caring and dear neighbour Well,I completely forgot because I was out last night meeting a man from Soul-mates and got home so late I slept right through the alarm. A pity you didn’t bring him back,said Annie licking her lips. I can’t bring any man here so soon,Mary informed her.I rang the hotel and cancelled my booking.With the weather so odd even Blackpool Illuminations would not cheer anyone up.I didn’t know which clothes to take either. Isn’t it interesting that as we get better off we get problems like that,remarked Annie. When we were young we had so few clothes we had no trouble packing. Mary laughed.My first year after University I bought two cotton dresses in Woolworth’s.I thought they were ok but later discovered they were almost transparent.Anyway I wore themn But now few women wear dresses.
7
Look at you in those jeans and you a pensioner! Annie gazed up to Mary, revealing her thick Revlon skin polish and L’Oreal cream rich foundation in golden grey-beige.Her parted lips were coated in moisture rich coral lipstick by Mussolini and Co. of Argentina and Vienna. Mary was wearing a long nightgown made of pure nylon decorated with photos of cats of all breeds.Emile had given it her for her birthday.He had managed to type it into the google box on his laptop paying with Stan’s credit card from the Bank of Vichy and Nice,France. I want some tea,Mary said.
Soon she appeared in a polyester house dress from Daxon of Paris and the Ruhr. lt was covered in pictures of snakes. Why,those snakes are rather horrible, Annie said. I know snakes are in fashion but I shall avoid them.I saw some trousers in Marks but they might give a man the wrong impression. That is sexist ,Mary told her shyly.They might give a lesbian the wrong impression too. Oh,dear. Isn’t life hard now when we have to be so careful what we say.I wonder if it is because of social alienation and the rapid changes in demographics that we need rules when before we knew all our neighbours and they knew us.With strangers we need more rules. I agree, said Mary defiantly.And I just saw a book called “Compassionate Assertiveness Training”She laughed. Shall we send one to Donald Trump.Can you believe what America is like if a man like that can be President? Well,it’s a democracy so if Satan lived there he could stand if he had the money.. The two women suddenly fell silent.Emile was puzzled as they rarely paused like this once they got going Is he the anti-Christ, purred the little cat. Satan or Donald Trump? asked Annie. Well …. we’ve never seen Satan as yet…But we must watch out in case he comes here to punish the weak and the sick. Well that gave them all a moment of wonder before Mary grilled some bacon and cut some bread from a loaf she got in the Victoria Bakery. Here you are,she said to Annie,handing her a sandwich.Better eat anyway,whatever happens.Give me some hot tea,quick And so pray all of us. For he’s a Bally Woodfiller, He’s a Wooly Sad Triller And all day so are us.
God voluntarily turned himself in at one the governments vans asking illegal immigrants if they want to go home.Lawyers are assessing the cost of shooting God up to heaven from the top of Snowdon or Great Gable. God declined to say how he arrived in Britain though his burkha gave us a clue . She signed in for benefits as Jessy Christ and said she had two husbands.At the time she was labelled as border-line schizophrenic but the Father and the Spirit were found in her council house. helping some beggars to cook a nice dinner.To have a council house in Walthamstow is a miracle in itself God will be getting a reduction in her housing benefit He can sleep in one bedroom if the bed is bigger.The judge says he does not accept that each person in the Trinity needs their own room. Why God came here is not known as yet.Why he stayed is even more puzzling given the native dislike of foreigners and illegal immigrants where ever they come from, However God has been a great burden on the Economy as he has so many children that the Social Services can’t count them.Though many do seem to be employed gainfully or helping the sick and elderly His English is ok grammatically but we were told he has a “foreign accent” and had no papers or identity cards though he did have with him an archangel who spoke English with a Lancashire accent. God has asked that all the Mediaeval Cathedrals be returned to the Catholic Church as his son does not like Anne Boleyn very much and thought Henry V111th was a narcissistic ego maniac with delusions… he We’ll let you know more about the drain on the Economy and whether God caused the Recession in the next day or two.He certainly does move in mysterious ways…..that’s why no-one saw him arrive. Watch out and keep your doors barred in case he tries to move into your house or garden shed with a few companions.You can recognise them by the golden glow around them and possibly their wings.Photos accepted. Britain for the British.Have no mercy.Have no love of your neighbour.Everyone for himself or herself.He has to realise it’s a market society and that he needs PR and an advertising agent and a nationality and passport. Keep Britain free from foreign invasions.
How my heart sings 