Dear The Air,

Dear The Air,

While I appreciate that you, like God, have a very difficult job, being everywhere all the time and everything, I would like to register my disgust at your recent activity. I learn that you contain 78% oxygen, 21% nitrogen and 1% argon-y shit but, somehow, that doesn't seem to add up. Because, from where I'm sitting (over a toilet bowl, painfully reacquainting myself with my barely-swallowed lunch), you seem also to contain approximately 99% disease. As in the air-borne virus death disease which has passed into my lovely body from the bodies of repulsive, contaminated, bastard Camden cunts.

Make yourself useful and carry good things in future - such as puppies, floating in your breeze. Or big cheques made payable to Munky, wafting about in your currents. Or the head of whichever pikey fuckbag gave me their stomach flu, bobbing along the ground like a particularly bloody tumbleweed.

Air kisses,
Munky