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Wild Things

Never can have enough of them, that’s my line. Here is the second in the series of Feral Girls. She brings you the Ripe Red Tomatoes of Retribution. Let them rot nicely and throw them at the Meat Puppets. They stick like glue and the smell lingers for the longest time. Or just make chutney. PS. Somebody warned me recently that throwing the RRTOR at the MPs, could have nasty metamorphic consequences. No can happen. These Tomatoes are special, not subject to the vagaries of causality, ergo quite safe. Go on, throw one. You know you want to… Update 21/09/14 After the minor (planned and expected, of course) heartache of the Scottish results, I felt an irrepressible urge to do something very, very silly. Something that whilst making me giggle would still say something about how I feel about the current contingency, at large and in general. Voilí . Update 24/09/14 And it’s back to the more overtly p’litical stuff. It’s hard for a poor Gorgon to change her scales, what can I say… This Feral Girl is a close relation of the Political Muriel. Only she doesn’t travel alone; she has dragged her bosom pal, one of the offspring of Boris the Bat (still in the oven) into her desperate attempts to persuade people to leave the Matrix and join her Web of Subversive Delight. Fat chance, I fear. I also fear she will die young, too. Whatta life…Observe that the Reservoir ‘Edge ‘Ogs (long time no appear) are back. Are they smiling at her efforts to stop the madness or is it my derranged imagination? Update 28/09/14 Because most of my creatures are, or appear to be “cute”, people tend to assume they have no teeth (and ergo that my politics are fuzzy & bland). This is an attempt to dispel this rather crude misconception. Update 05/10/14 A few days ago one of my mates on Ipernity just upped and dissapeared from the site, overnight and without a word of warning. One day we’re having a friendly dingdong about Gillian Duffy -of “where are all these Eastern Europeans flocking from?”memory- and next day he’s gone; nobody knows why, or where. Lots of upset people all over the site. Me included. So I made a wee bit of sympathetic metchick, in case it helps to either bring him back or, failing that, look after him wherever he is now. Update 10/10/14 Let’s end on a nicely p’litical note. Here’s to Ms. Nuland and her big mouth. There’ll always be someone with a bigger gob than yourself to tell you where you get off, missy. Now go and get Ebola or something.


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Name: Dolores

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