Here in Heathen

Here in Heathen we play with our toys and dance The Potato. Our resident monkey writes poetry and does not wear a suit; nor gets off by telling everyone else how, or who, to BE.

Here in Heathen we put our heads together and say 'whizzy whizzy' in arbitary acts of irrelevance (which we know to be irrelevant, and are, therefore, amusing to us).

Here in Heathen we close our eyes and think wude thoughts. Sometimes, we allow ourselves to become lost in the swirl of our minds. We pity the Stiff Herberts who pretend to have answers to everything in the name of a 'God' or a creed.

Here in Heathen we like to swear and fuck about in all manner of ways. Now I go and eat a nice slice of Fickle cake... yum yum.