Putting things in order.

I once hid a peanut butter sandwich in my mum's good handbag.
I was only about 7. The oil fucked the lining good and proper.
And the leather was stained and ruined. And stank of peanuts.

But I don't feel bad anymore.
Because she's been up this weekend,
revealing more about my family history.
Most of the fuckers are bloody mad.
Sorry, have got mental issues and are locked up.

Excellent.

How come she only tells me this stuff in dribs and drabs?

Maybe she thinks the shock will make me want to
eat a small horse through my arse.
Or sing Dollar hits standing on Platform 2 at Waverley.

Hahahahahahhahahahha!!!!!!
Too late woman.