Once upon a time there was a massive egg. The kind of egg an ostrich would look at and think “Now, that’s a big bloody egg!”. The egg was bigger than a football, smaller than a basketball and had a cream sheen to its shell. It was found in a forest by an 8 year old boy who had curly hair and was himself bigger than a football and a basketball put together.
David made sure his tea was finished before he dropped the big news. He thought telling his folks at his house would be best: familiar wallpaper gives strength.
“I’ve got something to tell you. You might not like it but I feel I need this in my life”.
Dad looked concerned. Mum looked intrigued and concerned. “What is it son?” said Dad.
Well. There you are. Just say I didn’t tell you so. He told me “We’re eleven ways through this and I don’t know where to go.” But how did he know? I never trust someone with shoes like that. I mean, haven’t been the same since Bowie died. Death seemed too mundane, you know? Well. There you are. Least I know when to use two o’s. Not that that’s bloody important. I mean let it go man, let it go. Unt...