the album was “about the fucking panic of realising you’re going to die. And that any time soon I could possibly have a heart attack when I next go for a run.”
i want some carrot cake.
you were leaping around with a bassoon sellotaped to your head.
my postman is a wank.
found an old cd from last year that I labelled “Pop-tart friendly dub” full of old Emalkay tunes , when I obviously thought I was going to be doing rounds in every nightclub in Scotland.
cringe to fuck
man goes into cage.
cage goes into salsa.
shark’s in the salsa.
all I want to do is eat Alpen and make love.