THE DEVIL

Always he's getting into our stove, when he's not trying to persuade me to sign some kind of contract: he claims I'd be able to play guitar really well if only I'd sign. It's really annoying: he's so whiny and he just won't go away.

(I know, wood-burning stove: that makes me both horribly middle class and a pollution villain. Well, I've given up on all that goody-goody stuff: bring on the apocalypse is my view, we deserve death and that's what we shall have.)