And so finally I get my hands on the keys to the editorial Scorpion. This week promises to bring at least 60% more sneering; however, as is customary during TLA’s absences, the sneering will be interspersed with ridicule of the more vulnerable casualties of society. It is likely there will be very little content not sourced from The Arrondissement or The Post’s distribution area.
And so, inevitably, we turn to Maylands, where only yesterday the Director of Liquor Licensing declared that the existing oversupply of drunks was reason enough to refuse a new liquor store. Mercifully, MadKuntz was approved before the Director noticed the rivers of piss flowing down 8th Ave.
It’s possible this is also the Home of the Toilet Bowl Planter.
Cocos Palm and Thong Tree. This should be the Governor’s Residence.
But there’s nothing wrong with some harmlessly eccentric found art in the front yard. Or disembodied heads. Is it too soon for more Milat jokes?
I think it is generally agreed I am no palm-spotter. I’m calling not-Cocos, and not-Cotton. What’s left? Regardless of species, I think the entire genus is inarguably improved by the addition of 1000 teapots.
Ahh, the Pies. It is all becoming clearer now. Where’s Mr 276 when you need him?