Mung

So, as you may have noticed, there's a new Mungolian Jet Set album emerging from the writhing vagina of creativity that is Mung HQ in the coming weeks. And you may even have listened to some of the samples HERE.

But I honestly can't say I give a shit about it.

I'm being dragged to the Punkt Festival in a few weeks, while right now I'm left for long hours without any sentient contact outside of the internet (and that can be questionable in terms of sentience)  - oh yeah - and generally deprived of kebabs and strong liquor.

So, in short, I would like you to utterly IGNORE this post, and all future posts I make. No more comments, no more messages, no more emails to me. I am taking this opportunity to turn my involuntary exile to a world of shit and ...
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What the hell is going on?

I sit here, writing these little prose-based thinklings for my readership of 3 people (myself included), and Sir Dhahii goes on Facebook and Twitter and writes this kind of thing:

Homunculus seems to be truly back in action. And almost is positive about something: Charlie Brooker. What next? Backrubs for Chris Morris?

Or ...

Yeah. The Homunculus is back. We're still not sure that's a good thing ...

Or ...

Gurgles from the Pool of Embellished Cyber-nuns suggest that the Homunculus may be back from his travels.

WHAT THE HELL!?

Just because he's the webmaster here and occasional "backing lyricist" for Mungolian Jet Set, he thinks he can write this piffle.

And my activities in the Pool of Embellished Cyber-nuns are none of anybody's business.

So, Sir Dhahii, here it is:

You can take your remarks, your RAWK inclinations and you proto-gothoid Hammer Horror fanship and safely lodge it in the depths of a ...
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