Friday 7 October 2011

Ohio Immortalised by a Person of Boring Persuasion.

In O-hio
The wind do blow
The dogs do bark and trees do grow
And in the winter falleth snow
Then Oh, how white be O-hio.

Meanwhile, just half a mile from here, across a span of three lanes and three fields, with no lefts and no rights, lies a creature of sylphan aspect whose approbation I court at my peril. It’s guarded day and night by a dragon with fiery hair and a sexy voice.

See? These are the depths to which the congenitally bored, the terminally boring, and those devoid of any trace of personality are dragged. I still think I might have died last week and nobody’s told me yet.

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