Ruttingtons

Off his bleedin' trolly!

Having published probably the best Hampstead Village Voice to date in edition 13, yours truly finds himself somewhat stuck in a rut. It isn't a writer's block exactly - more a sort of cup over-floweth, spoilt-for-choiceness situation. I simply cannot choose between whether to get edition 14 off the ground immediately, write my book, start on The Hampstonian 2012, launch my musical web-site [categorizing all my songs, albums, videos and TV appearances] or compile the Hampthology - a planned collection of the best of the Hampstead Village Voice.

You see my quandary. I've simply too much to choose from and end up doing absolutely nothing. Hurrah for doing absolutely nothing! It's time for being a fallow fellow. Allow the brain and senses to relish life's joys regardless of mere work related matters. Work to live - not live to work. Who gives a shit? Life's too short! Cappuccino's aimlessly sipped upon the High Street - yes, wasn't this why I started the Hampstead Village Voice in the first place? To stop and appreciate all the joyous things we have in Hampstead? The Heath, the cafe's, the massive great big trolly's left in the middle of zebra-crossings. Yes indeedy!

Yours non-resentfully,

Master Fer-Globules x

Hot-pants wrapped in wet panties