I think I had been kidnapped by a giant or a team of medium sized folk heroes balancing as one to fool me. But the important thing is that i’m back and ready to hunt again. And thank goodness Rochelle is still here to monitor behaviour and lizards. I’ve got to write 100 words concerning this photo, how I will do this depends on what side of bed I got out of 15 hours ago. So lets see.
On My Marks…
Get Set…
GO!!!
In the arse end of nowhere, Les had fallen for the classic redevelopment ruse; appeared on “This Home for Less” and had almost seen his building pretty much collapse before his Glaucoma.
Some fucker had sold him the shack for several grand and had used mirrors and prostitutes to distract him away from his cloudy cloudiness. The roof and ceiling ready to collapse on command, Les uselessly unaware.
What to do?
Due to its proximity to the middle of nowhere, everywhere was somewhere, fortunately there were stickers for that.
Les’ shack became a welcoming clustered signpost for absolutely everywhere.
There we are, a tale of directions, 100 words, enjoy
The Count Of North Clifton 
The great thing about the middle of nowhere is being able to ignore all the somewheres
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That’s a very good point Neil!!
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It really is in the arse end of no where! Les, let’s hope you can do something with nothing!
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I love ‘fortunately there were stickers for that’. So true. Stickers for everything. Poor Les. ‘Mirrors and prostitutes’? Oh dear. No wonder he got sucked in. Intriguing.
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Dear Shrawley,
Les is more, eh? A man without direction…or with every direction and nowhere to go. Good one.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Welcome back, Shrawl!
First thing I look at in a building is its roof. “Glaucoma … mirrors … prostitutes” I can see how he was swayed away. Glad he made the best of it, regardless.
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