the baggy trousered misanthropist

missives issued from the lair

head_explode

It wouldn’t be the first time I’d ruined one of my Gran’s tablecloths. Image via videogum.

I can’t wait for Christmas. This artificial meat malarkey will add a whole new dimension to the sanctimonious questioning I receive from ageing relatives and acquaintances regarding my ability to make valid moral decisions.

Still, at least there’s the possibility that the increased stress of trying to disentangle the philosophical dilemmas therein might cause my brain to explode in their faces.

Those carnivores love a bit of offal, don’t they?

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