The Cock-knock at Hanging Rock

Choosing a holiday: How do you get something for the right price that doesn’t involve whoring yourself to eat when you get there?

The Cock-knock at Hanging Rock...

I found some things today, most notably a bottle of Baileys standing firm and erect (still encased in cardboard) on the top of the bookshelf. I know someone who would be happy to have that back in her possession.

There are always things going down on me: A tiny steak, a wooden pole, the third-to-bottom ledge.

Sometimes I can’t sleep. I stay awake forever, but I never see the sun come up. Don’t believe anything is committed to memory forever, even a page placed under the pillow. Praise the bedside lamp for all it’s worth.

I’m bringing about a new social revolution by washing my hair with seaweed extract. Let’s all get back in the ocean.

What can we do for a sick man who won’t let himself get better? Quit the fairway, drink around the ocean edge, stop and save a leaning flower appeaser.

I’d like music CDs to be set out with song titles like a book. For example:

  • Foreword (1:22)
  • Introduction (2:19)
  • Chapter 1—Fun bags are fun (3:34)
  • Chapter 2—I’m in Love with my Pimple Dick (1:04)
  • Chapter 3—The Toilet’s Blocked (6:32)

And so on, all the way down to...

  • Epilogue—The Masked Rear-Ender (33:09)