Sinister: Social Services - Buddle Lane Family Centre

[Adrian Evans]

Here it is...the amazing Spaceboy Confectionary Dream Lyric Theory.
These ARE the actual lyrics...none of that dribble you pesky kids have
been posting this last week or so.  The truth is out...(well, it's out
there somewhere)..Stuart David is a chocolate pigging get.

NB.  I've only got a fifteenth generation TAPE copy of TITWOBBLES so I
cannot take any responsibility for errors in spelling, punctuation or
downright lies.

All I need now is for you kids to let me know why big Stu D isn't a
right hefty fat bastard 'n all that.  Answers to Gus Honeybun on the
back of a Manchester Utd BT Phonecard to the usual address.

SPACEBOY DREAM.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I dreamt I had to get a MARS
I'm always MILKY BAR KIDDING on about getting a MARS or MILKY WAY
But faced with the reality of it in my dream I wanted TERRY'S ALL GOLD
And I wasn't going to like a MINI-TWIX
There was three of us going (TRIO??) and we couldn't all go in the same
ship
We had a go at a TIMEOUT with a MILKY WAY between us
I had a ROLO first, and it was the thought of passing through all that
black space,
All the darkness with caramel in it - and then being the first one to
land there, all alone
I knew it was supposed to be all dark around with just a red surface
(Turkish Delight ?)
But what if I got there and it was LITE...all KINDER SURPRISE and
populated and stuff
So I ate a flan.
The other 2 ASTROnaughts were to be my dad and my sister
And my dad would come first after me and so I decided when I landed that
I would just
	stay in and eat until he got there
And then we could both get out together and have a look for a BOUNTY and
see what sort of 	things they were
And when I woke up and I was lying on my back in the darkness
I thought I had landed and I just lay still for a while eating till my
dad got there with some more grub.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So there you have it...not conclusive I'll admit, but it's there...you
listen, and if you put your ear up to the speaker on the bits where it
goes quiet, you can hear the song from those classic Finger of Fudge
adverts of the seventies and eighties.

Ronan on delivering the Monday poem wrote :

>eJ8+IhoJAQaQCAAEAAAAAAABAAEAAQeQBgAIAAAA5AQAAAAAAADoAAEIgAcAGAAA
>AElQTS5NaWNyb3NvZnQgTWFpbC5Ob3RlADEIAQ2ABAACAAAAAgACAAEEgAEAFwAA
>AE1vbmRheSBQb2VtIG9uIFR1ZXNkYXkAFQgBBYADAA4AAADOBwkAFgAKAAwAGAAC
>ACQBASCAAwAOAAAAzgcJABYACgAJABsAAgAkAQEJgAEAIQAAADQxNjExQTdCRjM1
>MUQyMTFCQzdDMDA2MEIwNjg2ODc5APEGAQSQBgBoAQAAAQAAABAAAAADAAAwAw
>AAAAsADw4AAAAAAgH/DwEAAABEAAAAAAAAAABglGRgQbgBCAArK4opAADLnCEAZAA
>AC8AFQAAABQAJ3NpbmlzdGVyJwBzaW5pc3RlckBwaC5lZC5hYy51awAeAAIwAQAA

Is it me or is Simon Armitage just taking the piss these days...this is
NOT poetry.

Later Playmates
Adrian...BORED.
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