pointless ladders

192. Brookside on Bangladesh on Huguenots.

Tights. You wear them once then they die.

A night on the plank and the ninja recline.

A one-finger slap is delicately sly.

Naked flitters between the rooms – a stealthy flummox will get you by.

My new home. The plank is the bed. Last night I dreamt I was camping, it is that unforgivingly hard. The recline to pillow level is executed with stealth and speed – as uncomfy as the ancient futon may be, bed itself is always blissfully welcome. My tights might as well be compostable, their micro webs unzip at such an alarming pace I wonder whether I am the only woman in London to get through five pairs a week. Please Nasa, invent a 10 denier that lasts. Next time you want to slap someone, try the one-finger slap. It’s subtle, it’s to the point, it’s pathetic. It does the trick. A stealthy flummox is nothing more than a decoy for the greater good. Useful and utterly necessary. Naked flitters are not only possible but cockle-warmingly ordinary when it comes to a landing around which it would be impossible to truly swing Hello Kitty’s runtish little brother.

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