SOTTOGOVERNO

"They all gots a name fer me. Each vee-hickla poppin' past my scrawny carcass whistles out A different name. Namin' theory eight-o-two, catagorize the deviant or you've lost control. In these parts a 'faggot' is any male who ain't ugly. In these parts a 'cunt' is anyone who is smilin'. In these parts a wanker is anyone who gots ambition. In these parts a 'fed' is anyone who know how to talks to folk online. In these parts the sun burns harder than in your parts. "

So I ruffle ma neo-school-boy shirt and reinforce that uggers beige retro photography bag o'er ma feminyne shoulder.
Big town draws nearer, clearer, shinier, promise in the air, the plastic odours of cards and stu-dent loans and ay-tee-em groans, transaction after transaction, declined/accepted: eftpos ballet, budget shoppin', lil' jobs, ol' staffy/high street righteous squadron squeeze claims of 'fraud' my way, tourists give me the 'sealed lips' signal, shaggy haired bogans look at me angrily, i've busted their very existance with my very existance, piss trails greet me, the shop is open!!

A labourer stares into me, turns slowly to his colleague, darts back, mocking and sarcastic admiration his expression:
"Something stinks" , the phrase exudes from his creul lips,all gaseous and whisp, inculcating both drop-in-centre member and dvd-cam bearing tourist alike..

Howard Love withdraws the a greasy bank notes from the ATM machine, turns with a sense of accomplishment toward the camera and begins his soliloquy:

"If entertainment of oneself be precosity, then whim and wham have fine times on hand. Applying there betters and never looking back, our jesters and jounglers in erudite embraces, heave and crunch of biped glues, crystal blooms and hues of vermillion jarring not the caustic airs. Oh yod, babel, thou art null and foetid statements in a rand pile south of Calcutta, tumourous trials and filial duties and swill, full ink blot tests were his lot. Major fury- these gardens need looking after - oh snobbish ruse, snobbish ruse and control, snobbish ruse and juries, lurid fantasmigoric hallowed eves and adams and carrion claws, rouge-ruddy cheek-choke and feral, moist bubbles - chemical soaps raking and scraping filth from thy limbs, never let them boast!
never let them roast!!
For your lack of duty is but a gel!
Your limits dictated by your bank balance, and so power to do is aligned and assorted. POWER is not governance, power is freedom. And that is not freedom of choice, master. Freedom of choice is still not freedom. when there are no choices, one is free, for one has transceneded the concept of selection forever. Selection can only be finite for this world is finite. How then can freedom of choice be regarded as freedom? "

And so it was. Howard buys himself a well earned loooong black.