Apathy UK

Far from being sensible, as always, I find myself reemerging into the slightly differently tinted light of a day, a week, a month, without the tendrils of hallucinogens tweaking my cerebellum. It is all because I have taken full participation of a little known and publically frowned upon season that occurs sometime around September. Each year the exact dates differ and I think they mostly depend on the weather and the toilet habbits of one's local bovine populace. I am talking, of course, of the Mushroom Season. I recently met someone in one of my local public houses, this one being The Junction on Mutley Plain, who has dreads down to her backside and a face full of metal, leaning against a speaker and staring intently at the ceiling. I watched her for awhile noting how she occasionally rubbed her small pot-belly showing between her top and trousers, how she licked her lips and how she smiled as she watched what she saw above her head. I knew perfectly well it was only swirly patte