I was pleased to learn that his Bobness has purchased a mansion in Scotland. At a mere £2 million this diminutive pied a terre should provide the aging scruffball with suitable accommodation when he takes a well earned break from his never ending tour.
Bob increasingly resembles a tramp. He looked pretty cool circa 1966, but since then his physical decline has been precipitous. Should he wish to mingle with Glasgow vagrants all he will need to do is swig from a bottle of Buckfast and mumble incoherently. Nobody will be any the wiser.
His new abode is actually quite close to were I live. Next time I’m invited to J K Rowling’s for lemonade and fish fingers I might pay him a visit. I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet me and reminisce about the sociological importance of leopard skin pill box hats.
The geezers more Zimmer frame than Zimmerman these days, so I’m sure he won’t look aghast at the tartan rug and shortbread that I intend to present to him. I’d give him some whisky, but that might induce some incoherent stream of consciousness ramblings that could result in a stroke.
I’m all in favour of the Jockocracy mingling with the rock aristocracy. It should be a true meeting of minds.
4 comments:
Ah, spam. How delightful.
Take a translator when you visit Dylan. I can't decipher any of his incoherent mumbling - and I really don't care for his music either.
Yes, blasphemy. I know. I didn't like the Beatles, either. Sacreliege. Bite me.
Surely Bob Dylan doesn't need anything to help him speak incoherently. Although I think he'd be extra specially pleased if the shortbread was presented in a tartan tin box with a photo of a Scottish terrier on it.
I love the way you write Garfer, it's the biz.
give the poor guy a break. after decades of hard living he has managed to reach the ripe old age of 65. if he looks a little worn around the edges, a little weathered - well that's to be expected, isn't it?
Yep... your writing is the biz Garfer. Care to start writing my blog?
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