Grimbeau

Change is decay, all growth is benign, progress is not what it was, nothing ever changes much, people come and go, that’s all there is to it, what more do you want?

Every cloud has a silver lining, Wilbur, so let’s buy some buckets and spades and build some fancy new-fangled contraption and go get stinking rich

Waltzing Matilda fell through the door, collapsed on the floor, crawled into bed, and descended into lavender fields bathed in water

Looking for the gear lever, awful grinding sound, smell of abject poverty, damp cardboard boxes, stale body odour, taste of mass consumption,

overwhelming hyacinth dreams of wonky power alchemy on toast, wobbly jelly roll agenda
Roast chicken Trujillo drumroll

personal hygiene seldom if ever funny take your daffodils follow prescribed instructions
very tiny small print don’t forget to do-dah

host harbours hierophant unhinges white anchovies extinguishes two milk bottles
challenges goldfish to nine holes medal