heaven knows how long ago this was supposed to go with dolly davy's celebration of indie poppets
but oh you know what with one thing and then another thing and then a little sit down and then all that business with that other thing and all well it's taken flipping forever. i know i know shocking really it is but anyway i just thought all that desperately sensitive longing could do with getting all unnecessary and disgraceful. sorry for the delay. minnie ripperton - inside my love
I reckon you just took a couple of weeks off to pore intently over the lollipop lady photos. Baaaaaad girl!
Do like a bit of Minnie.
That picture made me come over all unnecessary.
You're indeed a disgrace, and at every possible level.
(But I like you).
I'm fixated on oral fixations.
it's the fags that do it for me. that is quality smoking.
I expect you know her 'Here I Go'? 'One more minute and I'll explode' purrs Moaning Minnie. Then she hits top C, your teacup shatters, and all the dogs in the neighbourhood gather expectantly outside the window...
I think I prefer cosmic Minnie ruminating on The Universe. But I quite like the ones where she lies on her back and waggles her metaphorical legs in the air. If Donna was the queen of seventies porno-soul, what does that make Minnie? The Duchesss of Cornwall? ('Oohh Charles..' No, hang on. That's another record.)
There's a knack to porno-soul. You can't just urge your beloved to grab you by the emotions and thrust their desire repeatedly into your moist palpitating soul. You've got to convey your conviction that the euphemisms have made it all sort of classy and sophisticated, and that, for you,'sophisticated' conjures up the image of Joan Collins, luxuriating in Badedas bubble bath and gesturing alluringly with two fluted glasses and a discount bottle of Pomagne.
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