Not since Will Ferrell‘s heartbreaking portrait of a soused, abusive toddler landlord have we seen so wrenching a portrait of innocence lost. When the Dad has to bring up Nancy Reagan, you know it’s a desperate situation.
Just.
Say.
No.
To.
Emo.
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From lapsed Catholic Metro, who will doubtless burn in eternal hellfire for it or at least have to release an album of traditional Irish ballads before his reputation will be rehabilitated.
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cross-posted from running through rain
“If you remove yourself to the extremity of land’s end and that’s still not good enough, and people come down and deliberately stir you up and tell you that you are taking up too much room in Australia, where would you go? What would you do? Anytime Australia, or the Establishment, is so particularly threatened by one man living quietly, then we are not the same Australia we thought we were.”
Jhyimy “Two Hats” Mhiyles,
the Caveman of Bondi
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Readers of the ol’ raincoaster blog will be familiar by now with the jolly sight of author, columnist, politician and television personality Boris Johnson, the simultaneously elegant and devastating revenge of the gods upon the legended dignity of the British Tory Party.
He’s a photoeditor’s delight, rumpled suit accessorized with bike clips, rips, stains of uncertain origin, or pockets lumpy from collections of mysterious objects, with his blond hair in trademark Van de Graaff style, and, generally, a backdrop of pitchfork-wielding, outraged natives.
Now, here’s Boris as you’ve never seen him before: in Lego.
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