Believeability. That's all you need in this game. Have a rant, drop a small but telling lie, smile inanely and give a little skip. And hey presto, a bunch of gullable fools falls for everything you tell them, pausing only to empty their wallets into your lap. At least, that's what advertising used to be like.
I dreamt of badgers again last night and awoke screaming the customary "Badgers, we don't need your stinking badgers..." But what does it mean?
Elephants are big again this year and the truly stylish will be wearing them loose around the shoulders but snug on the hips.
It's raining and as always thoughts return to those long wet nights on the banks of the River Esk quaffing bottles of "Dog" then howling at the moon.
There's a plot afoot to see who can be nicest to the Devil. I would win easily but I get so distracted halfway through my sentences and end up shouting "It's a cream cake you dozy cunt...a cream cake..." cest la vie.

Rubber, there's a thing.