There was a man that thought he was missing out on everything, and because of this he collected everything to compensate. He was like a rag and bone man, but not as loud. He hated the idea of not having the full set of stuff, like every book in the series, every issue of a magazine, every shelf in a book case, that kind of thing.
He had a bath one day. But the next it was taken away from him. He took off his bra and let everything loose. He went to Martineau Place in Birmingham, ate a Bacon Double Cheese Burger meal with Coca Cola (C O L A cola) as the beverage from Burger King (refusing to eat in the cafe called EAT on principle of his rejection of such minimalistic modern nonsense in the naming of things) and then let forth with his tirade of bitterness, hatred and general animosity. He was quite hurtful about it too, telling one person they had big ears and another that they smelt. Of what this person smelt he never did say.
He got killed, viciously and savagely murdered by a dress-by-numbers indie kid that though he was in a riot, when he was actually in a pair of Dunlop squash trainers that his mum had just washed.
When he woke up from being killed, he was in a place with a lady that looked like th inside of a Dyson. She was Dusty.
"Hey Dusty," he said, discovering for the first time his Canadian accent. "How's it going?" he added in a Welsh way.
"Alright," said Dusty, like Catherine Tate. "You're dead mate."
"Yeah I know", he replied, in the manner of that fat bloke from Little Britain.
Then Dusty bit herself, and all that was left was a school blackboard, covered in red chalk, except for the area around where two beautifully formed bath taps were leaking water, smudging the chalk into an ellipse surrounding their base.
"Bath is in Gloucestershire, isn't it?" said the man.
He had a bath one day. But the next it was taken away from him. He took off his bra and let everything loose. He went to Martineau Place in Birmingham, ate a Bacon Double Cheese Burger meal with Coca Cola (C O L A cola) as the beverage from Burger King (refusing to eat in the cafe called EAT on principle of his rejection of such minimalistic modern nonsense in the naming of things) and then let forth with his tirade of bitterness, hatred and general animosity. He was quite hurtful about it too, telling one person they had big ears and another that they smelt. Of what this person smelt he never did say.
He got killed, viciously and savagely murdered by a dress-by-numbers indie kid that though he was in a riot, when he was actually in a pair of Dunlop squash trainers that his mum had just washed.
When he woke up from being killed, he was in a place with a lady that looked like th inside of a Dyson. She was Dusty.
"Hey Dusty," he said, discovering for the first time his Canadian accent. "How's it going?" he added in a Welsh way.
"Alright," said Dusty, like Catherine Tate. "You're dead mate."
"Yeah I know", he replied, in the manner of that fat bloke from Little Britain.
Then Dusty bit herself, and all that was left was a school blackboard, covered in red chalk, except for the area around where two beautifully formed bath taps were leaking water, smudging the chalk into an ellipse surrounding their base.
"Bath is in Gloucestershire, isn't it?" said the man.
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