mousehands : ask philip

You and just about every religious type personage in the recorded history of this planet, son. So, you seek the meaning of our turgid existence? Eggcups. As surprising as it sounds, the purpose of your life, my life, everybody’s life is to collect as many eggcups before you die in extreme agony.
“And the Lord spake unto Julian, ‘For thoust who collecteth the most cups of eggs, for he will enter the kingdom of heaven.’” - Kevin 12:7

I’m sure you’ve heard of sheep pens, where captive sheep are kept waiting to die. Well, I have a pen sheep, and elderly ewe which doesn’t seem to mind being stabbed with biros for upwards of 13 hours a day. Her name is Beryl.

I have an ethereal blue glow on Thursday evenings, between 7 and 9:30. Such a glow can be found in Ikea, in the lighting section, and it is called BjornGonk.

A land filled with all kinds of goodness. A land free of Ricki Lake, Bill Gates and all others who are evil. A green, pleasant land, looking somewhat like Kent.
Now put your clothes back on.

Is suggesting appropriate times for hair cuttage your occupation since the mediocre Vietnam inspired song 19 stopped bringing in money?

No thanks, I’m driving.

Tell me, is this called “ask Rev. Donnie Tucker”? Is it? No. And do you want to know why? Because my opinions are simply more important. So next time, keep that in mind before asking questions, and then actually putting your point of view across. Good, now that the matter of who is actually being asked is dealt with, I will continue. The colour pink has long been recognised as a violent, masculine force. Young girls are surrounded by the colour when their parents really wanted a boy, and attempt to guide their offspring into a male dominated industry, like thatchery. American soldiers fighting in Vietnam were surrounded by pink to turn them from peaceful individuals into napalm excreting war pigs. After their return, large amounts of research was done to counteract the vile pink effects, and it was proven that purple was the perfect antidote. Strangely, this facet of the unsuccessful military endeavour was left out of the mediocre Tom Hanks film “Forest Gump.”

Picture the scene - Milan, spring 1994. A young girl, her flowing blue hair striking against the pale skin. Sunshine sparkles vibrantly off her eyebrow, distracting passing policemen from several beatings nearby. She turns, looks, the entire world holds its breath. But there is a noise, a commotion. The moment is lost, the world breathes a sigh. Lost moments, forever looked back on with distant regret. That’s why green, and we must never be allowed to forget.

The dummy, as it is known simply to confuse Americans, is a family heirloom that goes back to the 13th century. Louis Ameline, of Nice betrothed the dummy to his only heir, young Nicole. The exact date is now lost to the ages. Passed down from one generation to the next, the welcoming mouth is drenched with a special fluid, which tastes like rancid butterscotch, before one can suckle on its aged teet.