investigations of a dag

By kasty

tempted traitor

just so we have this straight. I'm no royalist.
I have a millenia old potato chip plucked from a bog and imbedded in my shoulder since birth. The whole thing, even the colours, are a bit of an anathema to me. Once old enough to rationalise it all, it still seemed bizzare, in the way that all fascist ritual is. Unsavoury but wrapped in doillies and cream teas. It makes no sense to me. Och I'm sure they are nice people, as all people can be, but trust me I have no allegiance particularly to them, or to the concept of nationality much. It's just the longitude and latitude you are born and for them, just the womb they came from. My work mates are busy organising parties with cardboard queens to shake hands with and prince philips to offend. Other than an excuse for a piss up (shlock horror the royals buy us off with bank holidays), I don't get it.

I'm glad everyone is getting a day off but proceedings for this weekend are still a little strange to me. Banks with flags up (can't you spend this repaying debt), flotillas (for a country with a crippled ship building past) and multi-coloured confections. M&M were never shy of a trick, their origins marred in WWII army rations as they are, and this was a good one. Colour them white, red and blue.. and then damn you Sainsburys you made them £1.50. The whole thing a grand conspiracy to make me enter the shop parched and panting from a run, buy them and gobble them all up before I could regain enough fluids to recall my principles.

curse you sugary shells of hell...

And on the subject of temptation. Ever lost vital productive man hours wondering who would win out, The temptations or the four tops.. ponder no more

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