Badly disappointed by oldest friend who threw a greyhound bus (dinky toy) at my head when I was 7

And it made my head bleed.

And so it goes. Once again.

I wish with an unalloyed fervour (that's a fervour without chrome) that acquaintances would not enthuse me with projects that are little more than wanks.

Because I am credulous, and will latch on to pipe dreams without the editor head intervening. Because I want to believe it. Because it sounds good and feels good (like a space-hopper filled with glycerine, and a transistor radio tuned to radio 3). So I will subscribe.

And then I find out it's just a masturbatory fantasy predicated on money and procrastinated vomit. Good fucking deal. Thanks. Cunt.