Stick it up the ass;- the curtain is coming down on the whole show.
Today, I will throw my necktie down the john; I will stick my tongue into a meat grinder and my liver-pate in the icebox. My feet and ankles will be donated to science, and the brain-box can go into quarantine, submerged in a washbasin with Tang. I will simply lock my nose away on a shelf,- for sure it will grow a tail like as if it were a rat. And with my dick ? What can I do with my dick ? I guess the only thing to do is, wrap it in some flammable material and set a light to it when it comes to the recital of the pathetic "Pobre-de-mí" which turns the lights out on this year's fiestas - and let it burn until it melts or gets totally carbonated. Then I will pack my bags: stick in the sandals, the swimming togs, some pineapple yogurts and head off to the Isle of Perejil - which seems to be the place in fashion at the moment.
As usual, I have forgotten something. My fucking breadbasket. Where the hell can I hide this cetacean bloating belly ? Although it is hard to believe, one tends to get even fatter in Sanfermines and in the worst possible way. Well, I will just have to think of something - although it won't be easy to get rid of the bloated monster.
I'm open to all suggestions and proposals.
Well, my fellow-men, my "mariatxis" in the trenches will keep you up-to-date on all that we will be doing on the web page . I imagine that when I get back from the Isle of Perejil , I will continue to try to bore you month by month from "Behind the Lines", until another fierce Sanfermin week hits us again.
I wish you all the worst so that you can get started on developing a spirit of surmounting and developing positive thoughts. That is the way one learns to mature and solve things.
As I say, the worst possible then.
Chou ! Chou !
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