John Keats / John Keats / John

For Joy, Apparently, It Was All Franny Could Do To Hold The Phone, Even With Both Hands.

Get Your Dirty Stinking Moron Knees Off My Chest.

You Can Hit My Father Over The Head With A Chair And He Won't Wake Up, But My Mother, All You Have To Do To My Mother Is Cough Somewhere In Siberia And She'll Hear You.

I Just Never Felt So Fantastically Rocky In My Entire Life.

But You Can't Always Tell - With Somebody's Mother, I Mean. Mothers Are All Slightly Insane.