‘I miss him.
Maybe it’s not that I miss him. I guess I just miss sleeping next to someone.
You know, it’s not even that.. I just sort of miss having somebody thinking about me. Somebody to cuddle. Someone I could give a damn about.
Maybe I just miss saying I love you.
He wasn’t perfect. Pretty nuts, objectively. And we had so little in common.
He was so immature, so messed up. I’m not even sure if I loved him, how can you tell?’

I shuffled foot to foot uncomfortably. Christ, but Peter’s eulogy was overly honest.

Before us, Henry’s tiny casket sat on canvas sheeting next to the grave. It’s size a tragic reminder of his youth.

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As the days lengthened and summer approached, Anton thought of Anna Sergeyevna and her little Pomeranian, white against the hot black cobbles of Yalta. In the mornings he would write, and each evening walk the warming lanes of Alushta. Try as he might, he could not forget her fragile beauty, her grey eyes and tearful countenance.

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The gentle Nazification of the soul is explored in that most 21st century of forms, the book. Deep yellow, its pages thick and smelling, almost, like their fish glue binding. The Beach is the classic erotic novel, with little to no poon, but with every suggestive leaf painted in violent arousal. Every tree penetrates the sky to bleeding joy, and the deep dark pits of the soul echo anus. Garland effortlessly crafts visions of tribal life onto a cast of meaningless nobodies. I doubt anyone could give a fuck by the end of the first few pages and most will not finish the book, after discovering anything else to do. Grumblestiltskin! By now you must realise this whole exercise is futile. I’m off to make the tea.

Ever tried necrophilia? You should, its a gas. I know what you’re thinking, ‘Why dig up some dead thing and fucking it? There are better lays with the living’.
Well I’ll tell you, because its great fun and bloody easy. You feel huge, really important. They can’t say or do anything against you, they’re dead, so you just pump away. You can do stuff you could never do with a livin’ - pump ‘em in the ass, the eye, right out there in public. Yeah that’s right, do it in public, right on the Formica table top in your local dinner- its incredible. Plus no one will ever mess with you again after they see you desecrating a corpse just to get off - they know you’re capable of anything.

Lots of love, Richard