It’s a good one this Monday, what the hell is it? It’s not a mushroom, it’s not an animal like a anaemic slug. It was small and pretty well hidden, but perfectly formed in its obscurity, doing its own thing, which doesn’t look to be an awful lot. Its an organism, or maybe its just some sort of slime. Theres the chance of an all expenses paid trip to the Red Lion with me, (I haven’t been to the New Inn since my daughter M was put in a compromising position with the chef and landlord screaming at each other in the kitchen a month or so ago. Theres a trip advisor post, which I can’t find irritatingly, in which the author reports there being a drunk tramp in the back room of the pub, turns out it was the landlord, a shambolic man, the second truly great Shambolic man in my reckoning, second only to an old boss of mine, an absolute con of a man. He’s left the company now, fuck knows where to, and who would have him, never tucked himself in. And in my book, if I can make an effort to dress neatly, all be it work function dictated in this instance, then so could he.
Back to the prize; answers on a post card to the web address above, and i’ll let you pay for the drinks, the honour will be yours, I of course am just too honourable.
You never forget a good Shambolic Man.