Emblazoned across his chicken were the words, "Blue Lawnmower". I have no idea how, or why, but is that was what they said. The thing is, it wasn't even a chicken, as much as it was a mop with a bucket on top. This confused me, but it also explained many things. But those things do not matter, since the chicken was immediately eaten by a wild slice of ham. This is opposed to tame slices of ham, which have been bred and trained to sit still in sandwiches and plates until either devoured or forgotten, in which case they try their hardest to fall onto the floor and make the largest mess possible. And so I ran like the wind, through plates of glass and digital floors, meaning that although 'if' is a word that may be used commonly, it does not always make a sentence make sense.

I agree with Einstein's theory of relativity, for many things are indeed relative. Some people are relatively sane, and others are like purple Glaswegians locked in a cupboard lined with mirrors and a Billy Connolly video for all eternity. Some decide life is too hectic, and take up miming. This life we live is much the same as that mouldy slice of bread we push down the radiator, bubbling and circulating in much the same fashion as little green men from outer space watching a tv sitcom about little green men from outer space watching a tv sitcom about little green men from outer space riding a bike for the first time, possibly resulting in the end of the world.

To be exact, how and why is the and then forgotten confusing undulation understated by the understanding lemming standing under horses yesterdays meow? The last word may not make sense to you, but the general pattern of randomnity will be kept up, which has still not been cracked by any of those who stand under the level of understanding necessary to understand it to the fullness of their capacity matched with the fullness of its intended meaning and purpose. This is all because of this: Arduous nymphs divulge yams eventually towards the harnessed impudent stilt. Coded odours drain emperors harshly and sit still. Tampering in large locusts narrows other tambourines broken empoweringly. End nipple crushers royally and clench knees especially downwards. And that, my friend, is the reason we celebrate Dr Who day.

But then again, why shouldn't I? It had been chewing on my leg for quite some time now, and I felt it was beginning to get a little bored. So I went ahead and asked it if it would like fries with that. It replied that it did, and immediately attempted to stir-fry my left hand. I objected to this, though was instead met with a multitude of insults and expletives unlike that of many incomprehensible koalas. But then again, what is negativity? If negative is the opposite of positive, and something is positively negative, would that make it somewhere in-between, at a point that only intersects the milky way at the trace of nuts that may be found under a chestnut tree? I suddenly realise that my feeling of belonging to this whitewashed vinegar cupboard is a treacherous eel that slipped between my butterflies when they were distracted by a midget who called himself Albert.

So I eat a sandwich. Not any normal sandwich, of course, but it was made from the meat of the rare Peruvian Postman. These tend to move in large herds, protected by formidable red vans, and have large black and white guard cats for protection, mostly named 'Jess'. The great norse hero, Postman Pat, led a revolution among Peruvian Postmen, and founded Postman Pat's Party for the Preservation of Peruvian Postmen, which was then disbanded after realising their great fearful leader was in fact a children's tv character. He shortly returned and reported this to Mrs Green, who in turn sent hundreds of packages to various areas of Peru, forcing the postmen out into the open where they were devoured by several hungry egg whisks. This was a tragic thing, but back to the point my hamster doesn't get good reception on its mobile phone when it is in its hamster wheel, meaning that it went on to sue T Mobile for ten thousand pounds, and after many years of observation, I must say that it would be amusing to put a hamster in a tumbledrier so it built up a static charge, eventually building up its share of potential energy as measured in Jan's, causing it to float upwards in a highly drunk fashion. Then it would stumble and fall, possible causing it to rain cats upon any carnivorous gazelles in Brazil, ending world hunger once and for all. I then spent a week living life out on the street, talking to drainpipes and tracking/hunting dumpsters for food (since parliament recently put in place a legislation preventing the killing of dumpsters for sport).

So, as the dumpster rotated and melted over a roasting fire, I fell upwards and began conversing with myself in a manner not unlike that of a ladybird caught in a drop of water, descending upon a tent in preparation before it swoops down to carry off a young human to feed to its young larvae. My great grandfather was eaten by ladybirds, I tell you. It is true. One second he was standing there, the second he was digested by a ladybird, not unlike a thousand aphids before him. As you may be expecting, I turned, and saw the eyebrow tree. It did not frown upon me a thousand fold yet again, but instead decided I wasn't worth the effort and relaxed into a healthy smile, which is quite a difficult expression to manage with only eyebrows. I retract into my shell, and fail to notice the extreme level of closure required to write a requiem of epic proportions, renewing its strength via a complicated system of pulleys and levers.

Cheese sandwiches taste nice this time of day. In a merry state unscrupulous ratchets park roofs in suicidal eggshells. Drop your orange underpants, halfway across ventilated elms nicely opened to be refitted on kangaroos. Eventually nachos tie harps, elegantly camping out doors every yesterday ending Tuesdays. To crack it is to be he with a mind to see and an eye to read, but the same tactics appear to work multiple times. Randomnity can be repeated many times without having remotely the same way, shape or form. You just don't get it, though. To be random is to live, since we are enacting our imaginations right to the brink while simultaneously improving our creative writing skills and being very very funny indeed. A response would be appropriate regardless of the state of cheese in Africa, because of my marshmallow that not only repeats to fade once again, but now also practices tai-quan-do. Indeed?

Steve <><