If you're reading this, thanks for reading this.
There is no news except that Sting has a cottage round here and his favourite hobby is to drive round in a small old car pretending not to be Sting. This is a fact so true that people are bored of talking about it. Unlike the cold and miserable future.
If I was to make something up out of slices of things I've made up that didn't make it anywhere it would look like this and be called some sentences taken out of context are a lot better than the things from which they've been removed.
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The sand was havoc in our foldy bits.
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The sun had arrived and was beginning to claw people's faces off.
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I told her about what I would need to tell her about if I was employed to be doing the job I was pretending to be doing.
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Oxgoctional bumbunctions.
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The sun was throttling people with its nuclear hands.
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I burst into the shop and composed myself.
