April 19, 2008

London stank as bad as one of my posts yesterday: almost as bad as the famous Great Stink of 1858.

The official explanation is that the wind was blowing from the Continent: but in that case, it should have been a smell of garlic, hairy armpits, and cheese, obviously. The truth is, something happened that they don't want us to know about...

  • I just thought, if one post is deleted, I must be entitled to another go, no? OK, eek and banninate.
  • I saw something about this, but it was blamed on German silage on the telly, I think. I thought the Great Stink lasted for weeks, though?
  • My lungs are full of London dung, and London's scary air.
  • I smell London, I smell France. I smell the Monster Underpants.
  • By the time I get this written Plegmund's post of yesterday could get a dozen comments and be a great success. But to follow this out: the Great Stink had to do with pipe lines not being separated, right? The bad should go out, the good wants to get recycled. In those days at least. Today, all unharmful things might be called good, scientific or not. Because placebos, for example, have been shown to work as well as serotonin uptake inhibitors widely prescribed. I'm not British, but I say give the Prince a break.
  • Tracicle's cat.
  • Damn straight.
  • My cat beats your cat, Tracicle. ;/ I could sell my moggy's methane for jet fuel.