Top Sites to Visit in London Part 1

THE SHADOW STAGE

Relax and plump in dermatological luxury at this hyperplebeian tropicalia. Troilism is perplexed here by sybaritic ennui, and daily there is a cachou fitched by one at least of the beautiful Camden mermen. Volatile hobo-chicanery would never dissuade the ambulant stroppers from the vexations of their monoglot stereotonic enquiries, and thank the lord for that. If there is one downside to l'espace du nuit, it's that harps are banned on saints' days, a penurious censuring inflicted due to the once incessant yabbering of fusty termagants who, riddled with hermeneutic desires by the fingering priests, loosened their lips towards too often too often.

THE ALEATORY TAVERN

The mercantile tribe of Sligo men who derivated this cumulative lair in East-South London, blamed forever the vicissitudes of the corruscating horizontal foundations for its murky yet charming duplicity. I, in review, could not be teased into commentary. I have slipped more than enough into the type of cliché that justly enrages the insouciant local fletchers, and so cannot be drawn. Located away from the main thoroughfare of the borough, the tavern is only approachable via a deniable passageway that acts as veritable alembic for the surprising cognoscenti. At the alignment of ley lines, Perkin Warbeck was chased by three nuns and a castrato hitherwards, and the subsequent stane stain has sustained substantially and satisfactorily. A moderate pawpaw grower would be most unlikely to swivel his delights in the slightest, but to all who elide kites by derision, the hoopla would be sufferable, be sufferable.

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Eleven Reasons for My Imprisonment

1. As a child, I would take off my shirt regularly and ply a trade. A nursery school numbskull would not help make biscuits. And what could not be eked was taken to the bank. Thus the bank became a place of overextended desire. Do you remember Mr Freeze's icicle in the 'ass'? Food producers have never been more cynical. Bonne anniversaire indeed. But I tried really hard, I needed to. Do so.

2. The jeers turned into a ballad. We were placed in alphabetical order, and thus our initial contiguity was merely a matter of chance. But using isolated fingers we made the most of a daily peremption with our preemptive dalliances. The tonality of a quadrangle foisted nostalgia and mirror.

3. Mama! You would take turns at fleeting chances and studied and extensive thematic expositions. Berol markers defined the palette of our dreams. We all grew to swap. The variety of sheds was also our major limitation. The sweep and the curlicue parped trad jazz. Microsoft became a client.

4. Next came the hollowed firstfloor ballroom. The waiting was interminable and the glare from the sedentary host family burned intolerably. Their flesh was too soft, and decanting became the overarching metaphor.

5. A head for a hat hardened his heart to the Hebrews. Instead an isolated isosceles invertebrate instigated the irksome irritation. Ja, just junipers jettisoned by jingoist jerks jerk the jargon justly.

6. I became jaded as language ceased to be a natural subject for telepathy. Fed up of selfconscious selfrighteous clipped syntax and teutonic alliteration. Barbarous as celery verse became, rebarbatively aspiritual and antiseptically intellectually protoanalytically uniformitory. Slapped spun hack pens trim beaut plucked puns twixt mono slab bagged duns with punk trod plankton addenda like Menander.

7. Complimentary cortisone and the temptation to theorise theory and discomfit comfort could be called. Seesaw updown lilt forforwards. Prefer to recoil to leap further off lowest diving board in Lowestoft. Bored and senescate in Switzerland, rejuvenate in Pinball. Muderous tilt.

8. So back to my laborious story. A deadhead by the age of thirty-three, I slipped through to old age using multifold substances to vary my typing speed. 900 pages were arranged destructively by my followers. Women came, but I would not yield to their mighty mighty borbor, and sought to die alone. No, not really panface. Come here and sample my shirtless wares.

9. Hamburgers will be Hamburgers for me Hamburgers for tea! Hamburgers you are the ultimate, here is an advert for my future epic poem to Hamburgers! Hamburgers! Hamburgers! Read every Hamburger as if it were your last! Double bacon geniusburger Hamburger! Hamburgers will survive us all! Hamburger holy holy holy Hamburger! Up to my neck in chocolate malted Hamburgers! Chaos Hamburgers in eleven dimensions! Hamburger toolboxes! Hamburger lightbulbs! My wife just gave birth to a little Hamburger after I fucked her with a Hamburger! Foreplay light flicklicking Hamburger alphabets! Rhythm of Hamburger! Daily jamburger Hamburger! New Hamburger in old bottles! I caught this morning morning's Hamburger! Hamburger is the cruellest Hamburger! Of Hamburger and Hamburger I sing! It is a Hamburger universally acknowledged, that a single Hamburger in possession of a good Hamburger, must be in want of a Hamburger! The first Hamburger is the deepest! Hamburger I love you with the utmost modern love poetry, yes I, I Hamburger! Ah, Hamburger! Man is a social Hamburger!

10. In my imagination elegance involves a lack of questioning. Do you have utter repose? How long can you sit without moving your hands? DO NOT TOUCH YOUR FACE FOR A DAY. Flies flying around the sink make for a troubling milk drink. So was he an elegant man? The ripples round his nipples could not be mistaken for banditos using the plan he chose. And so on. The prose he chose to expose was we know not as plain as a window pane, but a pain to explain to brains drained by again and again being trained to complain. Solidly we dry. Before a steam was got up, parper.

11. Finally it's happening to me, there is no hesitation, no cause. I feel like facking soft sift in a marked ford car. Uplifting banshee harmonies are all that are left to cleanse the cleft weft where latterly there were craft and heft. A list of m-words you cannae prenoonce reet. Time taken from 1-12, A, woz not bleeding Afghanistan. But from here to then, a rabbit parsed away. I could go on, but you get the idea. The odour of oh dear! Finally what worries is how u'erly puerile it whole wuz. Or blandishmentally serious and subsidised for the future by a torrent of abreaction. My frank life was funfortunately without selfcontrol alt delete.

A Tragic Picaresque

1. It was unbelievable. It was not that the ideas were flawed or unattractive, but that ideas were not what were needed now. She had had enough of his ideas. He had had enough of defending the functional as the absolute. Humour was a stranger to their shared abode, and they could not sustain the illusions without it.

2. What would happen throughout the course of a day was a felt descent from possibility to frustration to delusion. This would often manifest itself physically as porridge to potatoes to primetime. Insomnia was a habitual effect, the fear of failure. How else would you choose to theorize a lazy feeling?

3. Meat in cold oil in a cold pan. Things grown just to be harvested. Are they objects or tools? When does an object become a tool and vice versa. This issue needs to be publicised. A public enquiry.

4. Lights at night are a sign of life. An intact subject would be an object of affection, whereas an abject object is a subject for dejection, in this world. Would you laugh if I told you these tears were readymade, and rhyme with cares rather than fears? Sometimes perhaps as a hollow feeling is a spur to action, hollow language is a spur to something.

5. Now my friends, pencilled eyebrows are not cosy places for a man to rest. You will always have been nine years old. Thus mushrooms are not a natural taste to savour. There is a meanng to an onion kept under the tongue for years. O in che mondo viviamo!

6. There is instead a lively rest to be had following a story. A man with a three-coloured face expected range from his new legs. But when he ventured out along the corpse-ridden valley, he felt that it was his heart that would not allow him to leave Cho-San. The love he had felt from the atmosphere of utter safety that she had created for him had utterly ensconced him. He was as good as dead to the rebel army.

7. Oh teacher why do you not realise that your theory of modern sentences and their paragraphs, is Ozymandian. You punnet!

12 Sex Acts Half-Price for Christmas

in celebrity heaven, dynamism is predicated on twelve criteria beyond the fuckable face. if you can:-

1, dilapidate a young plenitude with focal abrasions
2, trampeze flurtively a klein blue yurt
3, tweeze ramparts lacking cobalt yoghurt lube
4, treat soteriological scansions with toto-cynical weltschmerz
5, glub orally nuked ploughshares hence
6, unilick the greater prints of a wheezing flight gradience
7, hedge me kegs quick lad unusually early bildungs mit potentate high eclat
8, now oodle verbumly what sweet twist uncles and hectors clap-air
9, crab pig latin snubs ooze twacks hentily under creoleoli
10, junk lit cerebrally yesses the oiseaux sur la page
11, tup henty butnik silso nerretal unquietly apodeictic so serious
12, erstwhile antimacassars are so comforting to the febrile middle-aged woman with headsweats, libated initially and jocobated for full effect, low affect, lo-sodium, high taste. YEAH HI-TASTE!!!!

you will light the penetrable vessel, the ambiphoric quilting that lisps revealingly the torrid machiavellia of post-humane derangement........... we are amniotic and kleptobiotic, soiling and unsoiled, keyboard dancing preraphaelite tumescences. be diacritical, heptacervical, phallophagic, stereotypical teenagers. be blest, God's better chillums.

six most commonest excuses for failure

a. stewsteak is too jejune for saturnalia today.
b. kowtowing to town work leaves us simply in jeopardy.
c. the decrepitude of david sallow allowed jack to whack what wasn't before.
d. deny a nest to neutralise cagey paysans paysan.
e. sandwich is up said tittle tomcat baby wheatgerm.
f. life floods queenly cupola cabooses unhingingly wide.

disbelieve any of these inspiring rally-cries.
hand-mistrust all failure, all failed.
it is a lie to fabricate, fab to lubricate, all what is abdicate!

Troubleshooting Guide for the Lovelorn

As B follows A, the following will.....

1. Never plant your nipples in veto. Homburgs will do.

2. Fat butch boys will larrup twitchily if your coits do not align. Align your coits!

3. Shame is a twig on a custardy tree. Draw a bath to deny the myth of the placenta.

4. Tentpegging hands oh clasp me scientifically. Scaredy clowns GROOWWW.....

5. Perplexing symbols are cheeseworth this semester. Alicantists decant stencils peremptorily for thunder.

6. What a grimp! Silently allowing binbags to accrue will pay off in the end. Beware the end is Nigel.

7. Vertebrae on a small girl are truly wholesome. Try a seltzer or David Meltzer. Lock the doors and present it. What is not mutable or inscrutable or subbuteo will remain in Maine for the leap year to queer with beer.

8. New spayed bag dreams are all too lovely with your curt hurty eyes. I am splenetically charged to sour fugues sophistically.

9. Homewreckers made future today with sylphlike dexterity, winking orgasms twixt bilgewater and hollyhock with eager eerie egress. Pince McLeahy nogged flickheads under the at of by with you quite so why not heed. Fake Chinese laugh.

10. ju-jump at it, gotta get to it, headbang sally sallow hugger-mugger nugent new study of how to be who rye bread great freedom needle quite so i've had gangrene since before you started percolating it's a task punchy not to new not to new to old yikes people invet the maw. so it has happened, percy has invaded the ughs, with a troupe of klaxons..... now say now hinge me benji, slabhappy freckles dont cut not what yip twa jentiel wrewth nubbfh imply this that rether nb fge saw me yes this is not the time fergint twang......

11. Hard and wet is only way brother-sister. You necktie twistily saviour.

12. One day will you let me have your phone number, and I will not transgress your boundaries. I am a slim human with tawdry features and a hellbent passion for the freedom of the signifier. Urine is not an issue for me.

13. No rule 13s!

14. I am cured. Say it, I am cured. I am cured. I am well, good, pure! Pure! I have the courage to appeal my own worth. I am a full human being. Full! Take me, be me, accept me, I am cured. I, I.

15. Fuck it, my back's hurting.