these prunes are made for dancin

I am currently sat listening to the musical offerings of my brother's collection, occasionally granting him a feeling of smugness when I pause to dance. Ooh, he'd be such a smug but wonderful D.J.

I'm going to call my son D.J, his father will be American of course.

My brother has the audacity to attempt to read this before my art has finished flowing from the fingers that are attached to my arms, which in turn are attached to my torso and therefore to the heart that beats inside, maintaining the life of yours truly. It's sad really because I feel my art is in danger of evaporating as I type, solidifying on the surface of a more able, younger academic by the name of Janey. Well, Janey, bog off cos these prunes are made for walking and they'll walk all over you.

My favourite Beatles album is Hard Days Night, partly because of the wonderful performance by Ringo in the film, such a terrible mimer but a wonderful being all the same. [oops, apparently I used wonderful twice, well do I care? Nope, i meerly want to stress how WONDERFUL he is]. He was the narrator on Thomas The Tank Engine which alone deserves eternal respect.

My friends went to see Eternal when I was 12 but I wasn't a fan so wasn't granted an invite.

I do love Jazz but not devotional pieces to God, like I care. My devotion is life, happiness and euphoric moods so take that mr.

The return key is my friend, take that

and that

and that

Now thats enough of that pallava, or pullover, or other thermal garment. The harmonica is the fruit of the soul. And my name is Sandy.