Augustus V

Ow ow ow! I have faced many perils since yesterday's pre-birthday birthday party, including a seven pill obstacle course ending with a fizzy tummy roll, a topless army of pounding head djembefolas with their incessant banging brain beats and a kind of geriatric treasure hunt featuring a septuagenarian Anneka Rice in a wrinkly jumpsuit with a wizened Wincey Willis living in her ear canal.

The above portents mean it must truly be August, the most august of months, but also the youngest. It was created in 1975 by Emperor Augustus Barnett out of the previously discarded remains of 1969 that were lost in a fug of drugs haze at the bottom of one of Lord John Lennon's violent windowsills whilst he was supping on a kumquat daiquiri. On the fifth of this new month, or the nearest pub night to it, it was decreed that the chosen few should receive pressies of not less than the value of 'a lot of money' and to be no smaller than the equivalent of five llama thumbs. And so, it was so. And they saw it was good. And they all lived happily ever after and shit.


Currently listening: Without Feathers by The Stills