Go on, accuse me of neglect! Just say it. Three weeks, almost four in fact. If this blog were a child it`d surely be decomposing by now.
Thank God the blog is not an offspring. I`m even more grateful for the distinct lack of immaculate conceptions of late. It seems as though turning twenty-six has mellowed me none.

Flies…are everywhere. I see my mother in me every time I spy a door ajar.
“Would you not just close that door? There`ll be flies on the chicken. ” I will say though that there`s no roast chickens laid out on any of the desks here in the staff room, but that doesn`t disqualify how ridiculuously annoying the flies are.
Needless to say that they love me. Am I shit-like? I prefer not to think so, but I always remember an English teacher telling us in 2nd year of secondary school that the fly who now squats on your half-eaten apple was probably licking cow-dung moments earlier.
He remarked how flies like to land on humans and went on to equate us to shite. I refused to think of it like this. We are afterall the kings of the foodchain, how could you possibly correlate us to excretion?
I am not smelly and brown, and I most certainly have not come out of someone`s behind.
or…
actually I have.
You gorge be it on food or on another`s naked body. The result?

UUUUGGGGG!

You`re crap, you are.