Sinister: PEDIGREE CHUM WITH GRAVY CHUNK

[robin stout]

Hallo,

I have been meaning to write to you, oh dashing Sinister one, for such a 
long while. You see, while you have been off in the hills, standing in the 
stirrups and squinting through your pocket telescope, I have been writing a 
Sinister post. The trouble is that I began writing it so long ago, and have 
got through so many quills and sealing wax during the course of it, that 
it's all become completely out of date. I once had a conversation with one 
of you which went something like:

Him: How do you decide which posts to read and which ones not to read?
Me: Oh if I see it in my inbox and it's over five kilobytes big then I just 
delete it.
Him: Oh. Mine are always over five kilobytes.
Me: I see. Who are you again?

But, fearless chums, I am afraid that I have become rather rambling myself 
of late, presumably due to deterioration of the brane, and am as much likely 
to commit the shameful sin of writing too much as anyone else. So, I have 
today decided to be succinct.

MY SINISTER WEEK BY ROBIN STOUT

1. The other day I went into the cafe, and ordered some lovely hot chocolate 
from the australian girl who works there. She was squinting into the sun, 
which had settled on a rooftop over the street, so I positioned my fat head 
in front of it, forming a total eclipse of the head, if you like, and 
shielding her from the hazardous rays. I stood there for quite a while, and 
as I did so it dawned on me that she was wearing an upside-down badge 
belonging to a certain Glaswegian band. I thought of saying something like, 
"Cripes, your badge is upside down! That's rather sinister!", but then I 
thought better of it.

2. On Sunday, I was in Birmingham the land of the beautiful and free, and 
who should I run into buying haircare products but our own dear Ian 
Anscombe! It was quite a turn up for the books, I can tell you. I told him I 
usually buy the styling cream for straight hair. I presume he bought the one 
for gay hair instead.

3. On the way to work this morning we passed a Reliant Robin, a green one, 
which was driven by an old chap. In the window was a humourous sticker which 
said "My dick isn't the wrong size - I was supposed to have been born a 
dwarf".

FIN

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