Yes-aye! Having it

Givin' it large back in the day, there were some very tweaked things that came to pass. When the parties kicked off in our neck of the woods, it all got a bit abstract. And that is good. My flat for a year or so was an open house, known as 'The Nuthouse' or something. Not big and not clever in your eyes you constricted fucking prudes you, but in mine - fucking skill. One friend would fall asleep after giving it some for 72 hours or so in the living-room (understand; it was like shifts - cunts would drop off while others caned it, and would slowly switch as the swirling hours corkscrewed by) with his fucking eyes open. But mull on this cinnammon stick - you could only see the whites of his eyes. Wide-open, but his eyeballs rolled totally up. Spooky fucking shit my friends. Imagine it. I am totally off-tits, sitting directly opposite him not three feet away, the cunt sitting upright in the chair, head un-lolling. He is a close friend who has become the living-dead, apparently vaguely interested in eating my brain.

Line breaks are always a welcome relief, don't you find?

Those parties when it all kicked off. I bless my cotton socks I was there. Mad sound system. Driving soaring sounds. A few hundred people comin' on dirty and sweaty, fuckin' givin' it some and not giving a fuck. Tribal fucking savage happy cunts. Ecstacy indeed. In both of it's explicit meanings we would be fucked without it.

Who remembers Refreshers? Fucking hell!

Sirrah!

"Pithy quotes are for cunts." You. Again. One more and I will lamp you.