A tropical malaise has obviously overcome Art Director. The opportunity to flee Perth was unexpected, but for him, dare I say, not unwelcome … that degenerate pervert had been waiting for an excuse all along. Seeking refuge somewhere above the 38th parallel may have provided the physical sanctuary that he has so desperately sought but like everything in this life it has come at a cost...and as we can see in his most recent posts, cycling on a 1960's vintage bicycle in 40 degree temperatures and attempting to irrigate his carpets, he is losing his fucking mind!
Safari Bob is partially responsible for this rapid deterioration, trucking him to the edges of civilisation, all the while lulling him into a false sense of security with booze and the dulcet tones of his ukulele. You will be held to account Bob…
For the record, my part in this misadventure has been coincidental and on judgement day I will be absolved of all blame. Art Director asked me to provide a reference, being a friend I complied, albeit against my better judgement. I reproduce that reference here… it may well serve as his obituary.
“Sometimes described as a lone kernel of corn in a pile of human excrement, Mark Roy represents an irrefutable argument in favour of infanticide. Although an immense disappointment to his wholesome God-fearing parents this man’s ruthlessness, combined with an idiot savant like ability with camera & pen marks him out as a journalist to look out for… and avoid if at all possible.
Despite his not inconsiderable retardation, Mark has repeatedly demonstrated himself to be a capable lens man, causing no small amount of professional jealously amongst his peers. His disregard for all the norms of human decency and his disdain for personal hygiene are often misunderstood as the quirks of a brilliant artist. This is of course bullshit.
In closing I have to say that Mark is ideally suited to the position of Knobby Head public lavatory attendant and should I ever have the misfortune to meet him in public, I shall have no hesitation in grabbing a large piece of timber and beating him like a gong!”
Raoul
Never trust a man who does not sweat.
4 comments:
Fantastic, I get an account. Just what I am in need of, to charge all my expenses to, that red convertible can go on it, aswell as other miscellaneous items.
First up though I am being summoned to Siam, as my special skills are required in that region.
Obviously writing is not one of them, I take the more hands on approach. Raoul is it not true that you are a master of the hands on approach.Let us not be sidetracked by this,I have many skills and now an account. I will of course be putting them to good use to benefit mankind.
DemoBob
When its summer in siam
And the moon is full of rainbows
When its summer in siam
And we go through many changes
When its summer in siam
Then all I really know
Is that I truly am
In the summer in siam
In the summer in siam
In the summer in siam
With an account.
Account??? That was a typo, the first 'c' should have been a space and the 'o' should be removed. I shall have the proof-reader shot, one cannot afford errors of such magnitude in this line of work.
Proof reader? We only have overproof readers here at The Nerve. They are paid in rum, sodomy and the lash!
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