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And here, she advises discretion
by spelling 'fucked' with numbers
and saying 'please' with seven 'e's.
It's like reading felt tip

or the self mockery of a child
imitating a toddler.
You all be well warned, here.
Eight months. Culture

and habit fail to acquit her
from her juror's oath. Send her
to the cells, please. Anyone
want to follow her?

Some things are real
and I will not have a juror
chortle to a defendant
'Don't be a stranger, pal

well av meet up' and
exchange lower case acronymns
and commentary. Now
he or she following

in her footsteps will find
themselves in her company.
They can go and 'pal' right up.
I didn't get up

to make speeches like this,
to bark at the damned sea.
I'm the Lord Chief Justice
and we are adults
(that we made it this far, makes me speechless).
Now let us attempt to proceed.

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Language of Prairie Dogs Manchester, UK

If music journalists are failed musicians, then what does that make us? We are failed musicians AND failed music journalists:

thequietus.com/articles/05029-looking-for-water-jj72-interview-review

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