"Truth as a transitory, flexible concept."

People chide me:

"Why don't you give it a rest ~ the filching, the luluthia stench of theft, Villa Thefti, Elginiasmos?

Enough already."

I tell them, don't ask about my Rehab, I'll say no, no, no.

Miles too much energy still pumping ... spirit's sailing, venom flailing, truth unveiling on those vain vile years.

They don't look convinced, and why should they? They just stood by simpering and being waited on, they weren't hock-deep in mendacious excrement.

I cannot wait to have them guess this passage.

It's coverage of the 'Battle of the Billionaires', but it could just as well be describiing Villa Thefti or defining my five years, eight months here.

Judge Dame Elizabeth Gloster delivers a spot-on summary.

I was having a quiet one down the 'Sweet & Savory' when my drinking companion exploded,

"Fuck me! If I wasn't reading it here I'd think it was one of your blogs nailing yer mum's famous porkies.

Listen to this: dot dot dot ... "

“ ... Regarded truth as a transitory, flexible concept, which could be moulded to suit current purposes ... At times dot dot dot ... inherently dishonest; sometimes, clearly making evidence up as [he] went along ... At other times, gained the impression blah blah not necessarily being dishonest, but deluded self into believing his own version of events.”

By the dementia of Demonica! Wonderful. Wonderful. Talk about nailing the filth of five years bang to rights.

I must post this for all the weakling wankers that stood by and watched my pathetic

"Yes, mum, no, mum,
Green fingers five, mum."

[Considerably Bowdlerised from what I sang in the chain-gang].

Also to my girls and I hope they include it with explanations to their blokes-to-be why their old man didn't leave no personal jewelry for his darlings to pass on.

Wonderful. And bravo that Lizzie Gloster and her turns of phrase.

[Don't you love my skilled juxta-snapping of the theft-ugly insect with vile treadmill gardenry? Says it in one.]