I was born on a crumpet, splashed with tepid tea, suckled with a Guinness and sent to public school in time for lunch. Years later I surfed the Atlantic on the
Queen Mary, wandering aimlessly into First Class between bouts of puking in the cabin. Shuffleboard playing adults clad in starched white blinded me on the sunlit deck by day, and the hum of massive engines on the lower decks lulled me to sleep at night. A week later I was cruising the streets of Midtown Manhattan, hoping for chocolate bars. Between now and then I survived the Midwest, fathered wonderful children, settled into the Northwest with its damp English weather and started a blog. All before and after dinner.
3 comments:
Orange Rocks!!!11!!!1!
Oh, and Jimmy, too.
Last night I listened to his version of Hound Dog, on the Live at the BBC cd.
I can't believe the guy had only 10 fingers.
1967, now that was a very good year. Is his alter-ego one of the infamous "lounge lizards"?
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