Oof. Someone was in die Hundehutte last night. A quiet evening in the Earth and Stars, iChatting to Dunstan (still in San Francisco) with Andy and Jeremy, ended up an early morning in the Spiegeltent. And there was Andy bemoaning the lack of late night drinking establishments in Brighton (and indeed the rest of the country thanks to our antiquated licensing laws) – the Spiegeltent is a nightclub in a marquee, but a rather fabulous marquee equipped with wooden floors and replete with mirrors (hence the name). Shame it’s only around for the Festival.
And so over several pints of Freedom I was reminded that I’d been neglecting the Biscuit. Well here’s a classic for you:
Time flies by when you’re the driver of train.
Speeding out of Trumpton with a cargo of cocaine.
I get high when I’m the pilot of a plane.
Touching down in Camberwick, I’m stoned out of my brain.
Under bridges, over bridges to our destination.
Careful with that spiff Eugene it causes condensation.
From Time Flies By (When You’re the Driver of a Train) on Back in the DHSS.