bomb me baby one more time
this season the nicely turned out young revolutionary will not be seen dead (or dying, bloodied, blown up) without these simply delightful pop art togs: Onwards Britney!
, brought to you by the civic-minded people at Antipopper
thought for the week
under my bed at the weekend i found a piece of paper (actually an old envelope) which must have been there for quite a while and i'd written on it "dance always no-one who matters will think anything bad." is that right? i don't know. i think so. i'm not sure.
made me think of paul, the old hippy (i say old, i guess he was early 40s) i met on the last nite at glastonbury by the teepees, i was a bit lost and confused, we had a chat about the teepees, he could tell i wasn't very enthusiastic about any of it, i mean i was totally exhausted, drained, seratonin starved, so he said 'i hope you dance,' i said yes, he said, 'i don't mean, do you dance, i mean, i hope you have dance in your life,' and he was about to walk away so i stopped him and ranted at him for a bit about dance and dancing and what it means and why it matters, and he gave me a massage and kissed me, and off he went, and i went and had a dance.
good to have you back b.! but what's this madness: Wannabe sounds as perfect now as it ever did, tsk!