Send me ____________ through my E-mail at the footy(footer // bri'ish)

Not as good as the other one (#3), but... Still fun.

I've been making some brilliant jokes as of late, due to long-term and on-going Mental Illness. GP says I have Low-mood disorder. Which means: "Yes, it's free, but, I'm not getting sued over a misdiagnosis, so... that's that.".

Fair play.

Áfach! Here we go again for a lovely insight into some things I say out of pure chaotic and genuine hardship... But, let's not compare pain; let's pretend we're good enough to be a Compère!!

Ah. Autistics, eh? They've a crazy imagination, and say the wildest things. Darn them. Darn them all to an isolated cushiony hellscape of nobody but me, 'getting it', or, 'laughing', that mental-case-cackle that WE IRISHES do.

Anyway, fuck this for a box of good auld Bri'rish Frogs. Bye.

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"I never thought to say this originally, because I wouldn't like to lose myself in a Social-Vacuum-Esque Hellscape.
Purely if you think I have something to be understood, or anything of value...
Then, and, only then.
Be a Fan.
I'm opening up the idea of conversational ramblings. I think I'm naturally born reactionary, but instilled within silence. Don't be silent...? I'm a rational Human-Rights advocate, and I create my own kindness adverse to systems of Politics, wherever possible. However I'm Just not a fan of Tories. Irony, however... makes me look at Hugh Dennis differently. Like a Human. Not a Toffee. Or John Cleese. Or countless other wealthy Artists I, "couldn't possibly", relate to."
{Poddy e-mail address coming soon.}