It's No Wonder Bob Geldof Knows So

Thus Another Friendship Was Dashed On The Cruel Rocks Amid The Storm Of My Self-destruction.

Revolt In Whatever Way We Want, With The Spontaneity Of The London Rioters, With The Certainty And Willingness To Die Of Religious Fundamentalists Or With The Twinkling Mischief Of The Trickster... Take To The Streets, Together, With The Understanding That The Feeling That You Aren't Being Heard Or Seen Or Represented Isn't Psychosis; It's Government Policy.

I Missed Him, Of Course, But Sometimes Close Friendships Have A Tidal Beat That Pulls You Towards Different Shores Though The Ocean That Connects You Remains.

A Halloween-haired, Sachsgate-enacting, Estuary-whining, Glitter-lacquered, Priapic Berk How Dare I, From My Velvet Chaise Longue, In My Hollywood Home Like Kubla Khan, Drag My Limbs From My Harem To Moan About The System? A System That Has Posited Me On A Lilo Made Of Thighs In An Ocean Filled With Honey And Foie Gras'd My Essex Arse With Undue Praise And Money.

Sometimes, As A Comedian, A Line Will Come To You, That Is So Beautiful, So Perfect, That You Think: I Did Not Create This Line. This Line Belongs To All Of Us. Surely This Is A Line Of God