At fastidiously observed, regular sporadic intervals, MH will feature one of its dedicated team along with a true likeness of their real self and a brief glimpse into their awe-inspiring lifestyle – this to be followed up with a more complete profile when they can be arsed.
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This week sees the second instalment from our sticky-fingered proponent of the redistribution of wealth, Tarquin Stickington.
A formidable piece, extolling the merits of solar energy, avante-garde cuisine and the possibility of financial gain from mingling sociably with inebriated crowds at sporting events.
“A shocking behind-the-scenes look into the day-to-day life of an unscrupulous MH journalist” – (WordPress).
To delve further into the mind of this hirsute, latter-day Artful Dodger, you can read his introductory piece in the comments section, where it appears (inappropriately) in BLUSHING RED and is dated February 27th 2017.
The stage is all yours, sticky . . .
Ever fried an egg on a car bonnet on a hot day? Takes some bloody shifting, I can tell you. Reckon I lost 3k on that black Merc because of that. But it just demonstrates the power of our star, and that solar energy is the way to go: free, clean and reliable, just like Doris Maplethorpe at 7 Meadow Cottages. I caught her the other day looking at my column in The Sun (look, I’m entitled to soak up the rays in my own back garden, without somebody swan-necking over the fence!)
So, even on a winter’s day in England, the sun provides enough energy to bump up the temperature in your house. It involves empty drinks cans, but I’ll tell you about it in a later issue. In the meantime I’m trying to get enough cash together to start an eco company, so I’ve begun a crowd-funding initiative. It’s going well, so far. I’ve found that football matches are a good bet: you wouldn’t believe how much money some of those fans take to the match, and they’re usually so pissed that it’s a doddle slipping those wallets out of their pockets! I’ll be getting some tickets for the Grand National and the Derby, as well as the Henley Regatta, Ascot, and all the other big events. Those toffs have so much fucking cash, and drink so fucking much, that those crowds should be easy pickings!
According to the Law of Conservation of Energy (first propounded by Julius Mayer, and not Isaac Newton, as some believe), energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but can be converted from one form to another (a bit like my Law of Conservation of Economics, as outlined above – the cash is converted from theirs to mine). I’m not sure it can be renewed, either, but it certainly can be recovered. That’s what I’m talking about, solar energy. I’m all for getting something for nothing. After all, governments don’t give a crap about the environment: they’re in league with the big energy companies, to screw as much money out of us as they can, so it’s down to us – we, the people – to save ourselves some dosh, and go some way to saving the planet as well (I reckon Mars would be a good choice.)
Anyway, at the moment I’m more concerned with Conservation of My Blood/Alcohol Ratio, so I’m off down to the Bull’s Bollocks to get about 17 pints of Guinness into me.
So, until the next time, make sure you follow the Country Code – “Stay In The Fucking Towns, You Chavs!”
(To be continued . . .)