Monday, 13 February 2017


I had a strange dream last night. Not on this occasion the one about the harem and the raincoat, but instead one wherein a visitor arrives unexpectedly at my house both to service my 5¼" floppy disk drive (a) and to sing jazz standards in the style of George Melly. This song may or may not qualify as a standard, but the words ring true nevertheless:

(a) not a euphemism

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