Monday 19 August 2013

Premonition of a death foretold

I know how I am going to die.

It will be from blunt force trauma to the head.

When I crack my head on the sanitary bin in the loos at Kings Cross after I fall off the bog in shock at a blast of cold water to the privates when the auto flush misfires when I'm checking my email in the loo. Again.

I ought to be used to it by now but it comes as a surprise every damn time I move even a fraction on the pedestal.

That's why they moved platform 9 3/4. So the happy shrieks of the kiddies young and old enough to know better drown the screams from the ladies.

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