Who's tied me to a log? If I'm not released soon, I'll have blade you all farewell. Someone must pop along and ink the quota, else the quota will be sunk. To call a spade a pair of surgeons' scissors is inconsequential, but nonetheless vital. Oh goth, I am off.
The Timescan not be held accountable for damages inflicted on persons of sound aesthetic judgment by the contents herein, but may, in time, register some guilt over the matter.
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Proceed with caution, whisky, whiskey, a bucket(,) and a blindfold.
Duck, Duck, Cockatiel
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The move is officially complete, though I'm still living with a few islands
of stuff—the main one located in what agents like to call the "meals area".
Rea...
Sullenly Thirty
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I'm aware this is some days postmature, and banal like tinned spaghetti,
but I needed it to sink in a little. More than most this is a milestone
that beget...
Permanent Settlement
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Dear friends, readers, passers by, Hugh, Ben, (Mike you are my face book
friend already)...,
I have not written anything here for a while and probably will...
Stuff to come AKA... R.I.P Arthur Lee
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Ok to fall in line with Hugh & the Angus eventually some form of a top ten
list will appear involving records & songs & such.
In the mean while here's a t...
What's your favourite thing about Hugh And The Times?
Micropost
Deep, suspicious eyes, prominent knees, corkscrew nose, lone rib, right-handed. Highly dangerous, slightly educated. Runs a fat-person café in St. Kilda. Always on the lookout. We've exchanged four words by now, three unprintable. Knows me well.
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