
Who invented the blockbuster?
A film, a book, why the buster?
Why a block? But it doesn’t matter…
Words that are far less a mind-bender,
Suited to describe a megalosaur…
It ideally matches the skills of Starmer…
Those words are a bullying-bullshitter,
He probably suffers from micropsia,
His decisions are self-centred & macabre,
His cabinet is something of a bricoleur,
He appears to be something of a bereaver,
They consider him their saviour, malefactor,
He’s like Thatcher, a determined tax-raiser,
He lies, by omission, the little meshuggener,
Taking freebies and many a backhander,
History will recall him as the Pensioner-Mugger,
A closet Brexiter,
A lousy, inhumane budgeter,
Being ballsier, but also barmier,
Contributors made his wealth grow bigger,
He knows he’s hated but doesn’t bother,
He hates plebeians; he’s a political blagger,
Rumour has it he wears a brassiere,
I see or hear him, and life gets mangier,
Life’s prospects get lower, mankier,
Starmer, the pensioner’s mortifier!
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03:00hrs: I girded my loins as I woke up, stretched my rippling muscles, and started yodelling as I began my morning press-ups and squats and did fifteen minutes of shadow boxing.
Alright, if yer want the truth, then…
I grabbed
After a while, I returned to the front bedroom and found the Kodak Camera. Back to the kitchenette and took these photographicalisations.
Each car park area is on Citrus Way in front of the apartment building. I rushed as it was darned cold out there.
I then proceeded to the computer to start blogging… dropping the mug of Glengettie en route!
MISTAKE AFTER MISTAKE!
You would not believe the things that needed doing, which I’ve been doing every day for the last three years on the blog, and they were tackled during Mind-Blanks and several Mini-Seizures. What a pickle I got myself into.
Carer Chloe, I think, arrived a little later. The diabetic socks were not put on cause I thought I’d have to get the blog caught up and would not be able to take them off to get a shower. Naturally, this did not work out; with all the time needed to correct and amend things, I’d cocked up.
No snow was falling now.
The blue hue from the sky seemed to light all below.
Sam was going to put the socks on for me, but I thanked her and declined. I’ll have to have a shave and shower tonight or in the morning if I get up early enough and can make the time. I need two hours minimum, and the Ocado order is supposed to arrive between 06:00 and 07:00 hrs. It’s best to do it later tonight. If that is, I don’t leave the hot water tap running. Tsk!
The mini-seizures increased as the afternoon went on. At least I didn’t have much time to cock-up again. But I had to keep checking after each session.
The brown and red trees seem to be ridding themselves of the snow quicker than the other ones? I think it may be because they had thinner branches, and any wind may knock off the snow? No idea what I’m on about, really.
Nothing new there!
Another summoning to the Porcelain Throne, Trotsky Terence, was still in control.
I’m struggling with getting the photos saved to file again. I’m going to give up and get summat to eat. I doubt if I bother
I settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV and eat the meal.
I was pleased with how this one came out. I did a bit of apophenialising with this shot. The seemingly baby ghost clouds escaping the clutches of the dying sunset glow on the horizon. Hehehe!
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TTFN.