“I’ve grown a beard that’s two and a half feet long, and I feast on roasted blue-tits caught fresh from the tree. I drink creosote to get high and I ride a donkey to the marketplace. I think the world is about to come to an end. My eyebags are by Chanel, and my girlfriend is a bicycle. In the morning I arise to lick dew from a log, and rub sticks together to make shit. I have devised a system for living. Listen to the groan of my plumbing and the gush of my waterspout. I emerge from my tarpaulin as white as maggot to face the new internet dawn and read the newspapers online. My investment products are growing above the rate of inflation. I’m laying down some supplies for when I’m invalid.”
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