Rip van Tinkle stole my Winkle.

If I were to ask you a question, could you do me the immense personal favour of keeping it to yourself?
Like, I mean, not tell anyone about it, or that I asked you, or even mention it again?

That got your attention didn't it!

I've got a lot of questions, in fact I'd go as far as to say that questioning is one of the things I do most, and its perhaps one of the most useful. But then again, its not that useful. Often times I'll come away from a conversation with more questions than I had when I started, which is nice, but mostly they are inane like; why was that midget on a horse? Where had they managed to get an original copy of Charlie Sheen from?

Some people have gone as far as to say that it is questions that define us, but I think that really is dictionaries that define us and questions, not so much.

You see, most questions need answers and most people are now geared to answer them. But what happens when you ask a question that you don't want answering? What if you just fancied a chat? What if, is a question.

So, just to bring us, back off track, why are some people left handed?

Why are other not?

Why are knots over?

Which county is notts, under?

If over is as under does, do knots not knot on my cot of countless counties?

Because, you see, a question is nowhere near as important as who asks it, which is why questions are easier to think of, than characters in a novel, or even, novels which have novel characters.

I once did,
what they said I shouldn't.
Wouldn't, couldn't, didn't stop me.

Climbed down low
and stroked the grass.

Now, I'm old
My hips are solid
pallid, turgid, it all stops me.

Fall on over
and kiss my shoes.

There is, it seems, an inexplicable reasoning behind my posts, as if I actually do know what I am doing. Ok, so maybe all the bits don't connect in a fashion that you recognise, but separately, all the bits make individual sense, and the combination of bits makes a whole, much like the combination of bits inside a ******* ******* ** ********* (example deleted due to copyright - Ed.)

Oi, Ed, get off my blog you freaking infringement goon! Just because you protect the good readers of Bloggos-landios with your over eager asterisk finger, doesn't mean I want you to trespass on my private property!

Actually, Mr Silver, anything you post on a blog like this one, is then technically and legally owned by the blog company, which in this case is google. So there.

WHTATATATA!

HOW?!

WHY?!


SPEELLING ERROIR!!