General

I'd rather be a Mungolian Dreamfish in a pond full of sharks.

Wouldn't you?

I suppose they come perilously close to fashion, but so did Garth Brooks ... this planet is a fucked-up place ...

So here we are again. Flight of the Mungchords or some such thing.

As I related in a distant post, long, long ago, in a paragraph far, far away, Mungolian Airmiles are a problem for many, and most do not know how to cash them in.

The solution is simple: visit the Mungs in person at one of their so-called "concerts".

How can this help?

Well, it's all to do with the removal of gravity and other natural physical laws of the universe as we currently choose to understand it. If you have accumulated many Mungolian Airmiles, you will be able to take a brief, yet rewarding journey on an unwavering course through the lost domains of your own fundament, admiring the sights, sounds, and especially, smells of the whole gargantuan ecosystem of your own colon.

Perhaps you may want to partake of the duty-free perfumes at this time? I know I would. And - ...
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I have been doing some research for the Mungzette. However, it is with great sadness that I must report that Alfred Lurid-Tenement's Wing-Wang has left him for a a blonde waif-like creature. As the only man in history to have married his own Wing-Wang, you might expect Lurid-Tenement's disappointment to be patricularly acute. However, the Wing-Wang has not had the decency to finalize the separation, and is constantly trailing Lurid-Tenement along for - quite literally - the ride. Lurid-Tenement's relationship with his Wing-Wang have been under some strain for several months, especially after the revelation that Lurid-Tenement, his Wing-Wang and his Chocolate Starfish were caught in a ménage à trois near Chode Junction. Lurid-Tenement is unavailable for comment at this time.

I realise that I may have caused some confusion lately … when I was saying "dromedary" I meant "text", and when I said "greasing" I meant writing, and when I said "soaping" I meant editing, and when I was referring to dental hygiene, I meant "spelling". You see, I was hanging out in Looking Glass land with Humpty Dumpty when a moo-cow came down along the road, and who should be on the back of the moo-cow only James Joyce. Well, we got into talking and generally philosophising and making petty conversation, and mocking Anthony Burgess as he wasn't there to defend himself (and I had to remark on how – when I was a child – I used to confuse Anthony Burgess with Anthony Blunt, meaning that a British KGB spy wrote A Clockwork Orange in my universe, and old Jimmy says to me "Sure maybe ...
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I'm up to my eyes in grease at the moment. The dromedaries needed greased, and their oral hygiene is not meticulous. I'm thinking of a number.

Please behave while I'm out of the orifice.

The Homunculus