En core un foie gras

If all the world were run by geese. And toast were but a whimsy, as bonkers an idea as heavier than air flight and the concept of a fair trial. Then, my friends, would we eat till out internal organs burst? You see, sadly, I suspect you would, as there is almost certainly a commercial value in doing so (because, after all, there is a commercial value in wondering whether a goose’s liver will adorn a piece of toast that much better after consuming one more pellet or no….

But I digress. I eat liver. Under duress. And I quite enjoy pate. In the sense that the taste does not make me physically retch and I might seek it out in advance of some fish roe. Or a piece of 1976 Bakolite, as procured by St ElvimaDarren’s primary year 5.

No, I haven’t written anything significant. No, I haven’t been running. No, I haven’t remembered my password and I MOST certainly have not freaking passed GO. Ok people?

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