'im indoors

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Can You Hear It?

The rattling. Can you hear it? That endlees, demonic rattling.....the clatter of the black plastic wings of fallen angels. Can you hear them?! CAN YOU?!!!

And then the melancholia sets in. The sadness of the old woman as she wanders through the miasma of tat......but it's warm here, warmer than the single bar on the electric fire at home. The despair in her eyes.....Eric passed on years ago but she'll still buy socks for the summer for him. Pricey though, these days.

The sheer and utter pointlessness of life is never more clearly seen than it is here.
So it goes.

However, I must say that their custard is fucking spectacular.

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