Whatever comes to mind before I alter it with the overpaint of time. Mostly satire, poetry and fiction but occasional unreliable fact, as all facts seems to be today. From deepest Notting Hill. London.
Thursday, 16 December 2010
Cutting Coke with Gold dust in Notting Hill.
A night out with the new Muse; Honesty. where do they get their names from these mid-western girls?
I asked her that. She replied: 'My dad got it from a seed catalogue'.
Anyway, once we's got off the subject of horticulture and how big her dad was and what kind of shot he used in his 12 bore and the fact that her leopard skin leggings were itching up a storm I excused myself for a pee.
Can't tell you where we were but I can tell you that the loo's were liberally sprinkled with gold dust... Shit! I thought. They are cutting the Coke with gold these days... I took a sniff from a non urinal area; I wasn't that drunk.
Jeez.... Tinsel.
They are cutting the Coke with tinsel for Christmas.
They are not however cutting the bullshit.
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