It won't be too long.
If I don't decide, someone will for me.
And it won't be pretty.
It never is.
Pretty comes in all forms of ugliness.
Isn’t English an interesting language?
How's that for a start to my new book, I said to Max.
'Underneath the slick wise-guy posturing with your alter-ego, Max, it's still just more licks of the same old vanilla icecream IMO. Where's the beef? '
That was a response I wasn't expecting from Max.
'It wasn't me,' said Max, 'I have the highest regard for you.'
We really needed an Asian fix.
Europe was dead and it smelt of moldy potatoes.
Rot was in the air.
We needed sun, babes, beaches and torrential rains in the night, to make us feel alive again.
'Bali?"
Sounds fucking fantastic I said.
