Still Life Unlaid/Robert Maughan
}Angel{
robert maughan<r...@etymon.demon.co.uk> flatuently wrote:
"Still Life Unlaid"
Is this a biographical commentary, Robert?
Honey, when you are still, you do not pass gas. And how the hell do
you associate fecal matter with intercourse? Sounds like a Nursing Home
Horror. I suppose you scratch yourself in areas of excrement and grin
and drool passively?
Robert, some anti-flatuence med such as simethicone would be
beneficial. There is still hope for the environment if we all do our
part.
God. Britain sure has changed since the Beatles
split up.
angel
.
Robert Maughan
}Angel{ <embr...@ix.netcom.com> says
>robert maughan<r...@etymon.demon.co.uk> flatuently wrote:
Flatuency [sic] is a normal function of the body, Angel. You fart. How
can you tell if someone is flatulent when they write? Some new remote
nursing technique? Rhetorical, Angel.
>
> "Still Life Unlaid"
>
>
> Is this a biographical commentary, Robert?
It's a * *PARODY* *, Angel. Writ large. An affectionate parody, I might
add. I really do feel for Sharon I mean Tracy. It's a parody in much the
same way as you are a parody of a middle aged housewife with a keyboard,
only not as good, naturally.
> Honey, when you are still, you do not pass gas. And how the hell do
>you associate fecal matter with intercourse? Sounds like a Nursing Home
>Horror. I suppose you scratch yourself in areas of excrement and grin
>and drool passively?
Areas of excrement? I scratch my arse and grin certainly. Don't you?
No, I don't suppose you shit and wipe your arse either, or Evans would
know about it. I drool over pictures of old ladies in flimsy nightwear.
"Still Life" is a thing, Angel. It requires you to put the indefinite
article before it in your mind. I see the difficulty. Let's pass gas
I mean on.
>
> Robert, some anti-flatuence med such as simethicone would be
>beneficial. There is still hope for the environment if we all do our
>part.
>
Much better, Angel. Real satire, if a touch strained. Keep it up.
> God. Britain sure has changed since the Beatles
>split up.
>
Jeez, but you are one thick, thick broad, Angel. Thick as four short
planks, glued and screwed, nailed, bolted and wired together. Now run
along and be predictable.
RJM.