Tuesday, August 02, 2011

Fallacies do not cease to be fallacies because they become fashions.

This is a local street for local people. Nixon Street, Sandy Bay. July 2011.

As usual, I was the first in at the office this morning. As I approached the door, key trembling in my hand, little did I know what hellish scene awaited me. Thus, when I press you to employ your mind’s eye, my use of the word ‘scene’ denotes an odorous vista, not one of the aural or visual variety.

Imagine four, nay five homeless people with i) no access to bathing facilities; ii) no access to washing facilities; iii) incredibly poor diets and iv) chronic and explosive dysentery. The stench that greeted me this morning can only have resulted from the aforementioned unfortunates, who must have attained access to this office overnight, and suffered the most appalling nights.

Every window, door, entrance, exit and Christ-knows what else is open at the moment; but if you’d like, I’m happy to arrange a meeting with you out of office ASAP...


Kris said...

Christ is stank.

Roddy said...

Welcome to the world of down and outs. I have an idea of how bad it may have been. I knew a few desperates when we lived in Melbourne.