I've had a long and hard thought about things.
It all makes sense.
Since Gartland had a ketamine blow out, six months ago, his wife had to drag him into the lift and into their apartment, Gartland hasn't been the same.
He apparently hit himself in the head.
'Got the bruise to prove it.'
He's not the full quid.
He's now mentally impaired.
'I managed to write a poem about it, though.'
'Doesn't matter,' said Elon Musk, 'you have brain damage.'
'Rubbish, poets don't get brain damage.'
'Haven't you noticed your 'likes' dropping, and if they 'like' a post, it's only because you are posting pictures of sexy post-op ladyboys with your poems.'
I got a report from Musk.
It said that Gartland was suffering from the last stages of dementia.
'He's no spring chicken,' said Elon, 'and his fixation about living forever has become quite disconcerting.'
I said soon he'll forget how to swallow and he'll slowly fade away.
'He doesn't even have health cover,' said Elon.
'He's fucked.'
'He blames his wife for not paying it.'
'More like he blew the cash on blow and his wife had no choice but to let the health cover go,' I said.
Go into Gartland La La land more like it.
The best the guy can hope for is a quick death from Covid, I said.
'The world will be a better place for it,' said Elon.
